


Ice and Fire

by mamday



Category: Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamday/pseuds/mamday
Summary: At the end of Spinning Silver there are a lot of things that are unresolved about the future of the tsardom of Lithvas. This is set about three months after Miryem leaves Lithvas but before the winter comes. The pacing is slow but it is a lot about the relationship between the characters, especially Irina/Mirnatius and Mirnatius/Ilias





	1. Chapter 1

“If the rains do not come, half of Lithvas won’t survive the winter, your Grace.”

She sat to her father’s left, looking at Ulrich’s miserable pale face. After the wedding of his daughter and the end of the interminable weather he had been so joyful. But the celebration of summer had come too soon. It had been long and hot. Brutally so.

“You can’t mean that Ulrich.” Her father shook his head. “There is yet water enough for the crops. We have survived worse than this before. It is early for fear. The rains will eventually come.”

Ulrich’s eyes widened. He looked down at his hands and they were shaking. When he looked up again he looked ten years older.

“Then you have not heard. The river Neris has run dry.”

“That- is not possible.” Now her father’s face was also pale.

“There is nothing left but a thin trickle. And worse, the great Nemunas itself is depleted. Something which has never been known to have happened. They say it is a work of sorcery.” With this statement, Ulrich glanced at her, and remarked. “And where is your husband, your Highness? In our hour of need?”

It took all that she had not to jump. She carefully schooled her features and replied, “My husband took ill after your daughter’s wedding. We have been waiting here for his health to improve.”

“So you have said.” Ulrich stood from his chair. “But it has been three long months since then. If he is not well soon, there will be nothing left of Lithvas for him to rule. Tell him that, and see if it speeds his recovery.”

Ulrich also looked pointedly down at her  flat stomach. This time she couldn’t suppress a blush. Then he bowed once to her father and herself and turned to leave the room.

“Daughter, you stayed my hand before, but is it not time to reconsider our previous plan?”

Her father’s eyes were very serious. Her stomach twisted into a knot. She did not want to believe that her husband was capable of something like this. But in the three months since his liberation he had still not earned her trust. He had barely left his room.

“Please father. Let me have more time with him.” She shook her head, remembering.

__ _ Mirnatius held her hands to his chest. He cried in great sobs. And for the first time he was looking at her as a husband looks at a wife. Her heart beat in her chest like a caged animal. _

__ _ Then suddenly his face twisted. He pulled back from her, laughing like a madman. He wiped the tears from his eyes and shook his head. _

_ “Saving squirrels again wife?” He laughed again bitterly. “At least long enough for us to fit into your plans I suppose?” _

_ “Mirnatius-” _

_ “Now that the kingdom is safe from Chernobog I wonder how long you’ll keep me around? A month? A few months? Or just long enough to produce an heir to secure your throne?” _

__ _ Then, before she could say anything, he had run out of the room.  _

“He is not an evil man.” She said. But her words sounded false even in her own ears.

“Whether he is evil or not is no matter. Even if the rains come his kingdom will not long remain if he cannot produce an heir. Our armies are great, and as long as Ulrich sides with us we will remain strong, but even for love of you I could not support a ruler who cannot think of his own people.”

“I know father. You taught me well.” Too well, she thought, hearing her husband’s voice again in her head.

_ “Now that the kingdom is safe from Chernobog I wonder how long you’ll keep me around?” _

“You have a week. If you cannot get him to behave in a manner befitting his station by then, I will do what I have to do.”

“But-” Her father’s cold looks silenced her. “Yes father.”

 

She knew that if she tried to enter her husband’s room she would be turned away. It had happened countless times before. But today she was out of patience and out of time.

As she rounded the corridor into the hallway that led to his room, she smiled. The housemaid curtsied with her tray of food and started to greet her, but she quickly signalled silence. Luckily the girl was one of the smarter members of their household and she understood immediately.

She took the tray and motioned towards her husbands door. Then she walked up to it with the girl, who knocked and said, “Dinner, your Highness”

“Bring it in and set it on the table.” Came the reply. Then the maid opened the door and motioned her inside.

It was much worse than she had imagined. The room was covered in a million discarded pieces of paper. The piles grew denser as they converged on a table against the far wall, at which her husband was sitting, naked from the waist up, furiously drawing something.

She nodded at the maid, who curtsied and then hurriedly fled in the other direction. It seemed that servicing her husband was not a favorite chore. Looking around the room at the mad chaotic mess she could understand.

“Husband?” She said, quietly.

He whipped around as if she had beaten him. “Wife.” He stood, looking very unsteady. In the months since she had seen him he was visibly thinner. His face looked hollow and haunted, but had lost none of its beauty.

“What are you drawing?” She said, as if this was an interaction she had had with him many times before. Putting one foot delicately forward, she moved in his direction.

“Just leave the food and go.” He hissed. 

She ignored him and approached the table. Up close she could see that the pieces of paper were all different drawings. The one he had been working on when she entered was a bird perched on a branch, preparing to fly. It looked so real that she almost expected it to burst off the page.

“I said leave!” He grabbed her wrist, weakly. “I knew you were ugly but I didn’t know you were stupid.”

She set the food on the table, carefully brushing away the drawings so that nothing would be damaged and then turned to face him. “You will not touch me that way.” She said, pulling her hand away from his. “And you will listen to what I have to say.”

“Ah. I see.” He smiled. “Have I finally outlived my usefulness? Your father is impatient for an heir, I know. You as well I suppose. Are you here to force one out of me?”

“Can you still your foul tongue for one second?” She barely held her composure. “You have no idea what I have been through so that you could sit in your room and-and draw birds! The kingdom is in dire danger and its ruler is locked in his room like a hermit. Does that really mean nothing to you?”

“The kingdom has done well enough without me for my whole life.” He laughed. “What can it matter now?”

“But you-” She stopped, realizing the meaning of his words. Chernobog. Of course. For all his life Chernobog had been the one ruling their kingdom and not her husband.

“I’m afraid you haven’t gotten what you wanted.” He sits back in his chair. “I am not the tsar of Lithvas. I was always just a tool for the one you really should have married. Pity that you banished him. But I am damned if I will go from being owned by a demon to being owned by you, wife.”

 

“You don’t understand.” Throwing away all decorum, she knelt down, looking up at his sad green eyes. “You do not get to give up on being the tsar. They will kill you.”

“And by they of course you mean your father and yourself do you not?”

With his intense gaze on her she couldn’t help but blush. Unfortunately that was exactly what she meant, damn him. His eyes blazed with triumph.

“What favor have you come to ask of me in exchange for my life then, wife?”

“If you cannot be the tsar then please at least pretend to be him. Come out of your room. Come to dinner. Take me back to your palace and out of my father’s house. He will be far less likely to kill you then.”

“So that the members of my court will have a better chance?” His laugh this time was bitter. “Do you imagine that years of devouring whoever Chernobog wanted has left me with many friends wife?”

“They are your court. Their fortune is with you.” Irina scowled.. “And even if they loathe you with their very being they will lay down their lives for you because they have no choice. Unlike my father and the other nobles, who will strike you down as soon as they scent a moment of weakness.”

“Your concern is touching.” He turned towards the table, putting his back to her.

“Do you want to die?” She asks, outraged.

At first she thinks he did not hear. Then suddenly he starts to shake. A little at first, and then violently. It is a moment before she realizes that he is sobbing.

“Husband.” She reaches out. “Mirnatius.”

“Don’t touch me.” He jumps out of the chair. 

“I didn’t realize-” She watches the tears that are still pouring out of him. Now that he has started, he seems to have lost all control of his body. He doubles over with sobs and collapses to the ground.

“I remember. I remember everything!” He moans. “But now that he is gone, I feel it! Everything that it-that we did.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She reaches out her hand slowly, but he backs away.

“I was a coward. All I wanted was to make the pain stop.” He laughed again. “But now the pain never stops.”

She moved towards him again. This time he didn’t try to stop her. She wrapped her arms around him, trying not to notice the feeling of his bare skin under her hands.

“It’s alright.” She stroked his back. “I will help you. I promise.”

“I just want it to end.” He sobbed.

She said nothing. Just sat there, holding him, until his shaking started to subside.

 

“I want to help you.” She said finally. “But I can’t if you won’t let me.”

“Why?” He turned his face toward hers and for a moment they were so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. She blushed.

“Y-You are my husband.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t planned how to make me not be your husband. I know that you have.” He turned his face away from her and suddenly she could breathe again. “What I don’t know is why it hasn’t happened already.”

“What?”

“My public execution. Trial for witchcraft and burning seems most likely.”

She blushed again, glad that he couldn’t see her face this time. Of course that was what she and her father had planned. For all his protestations that he had no mind for court politics, he was always very good at guessing her gambits.

“I’ve been in here for months. It seems like you should have been able to arrange something by now.”

He had started shaking again. Not as hard as before, but noticeably. She tightened her grip, as if the strength of her embrace could hold back his emotions.

“I have no intention of letting you be executed.” She said firmly. “For witchcraft or otherwise.”

“Why?” This time he said it so quietly that she would not have heard it if she hadn’t been pressed up against him.

“There is still good in you.” She said. It surprised her to realize that she really meant it.

“How do you know?” He pulled away from her for the first time since his sobbing fit and she let him go. “I don’t think I’ve done a single good thing in my life.”

“Well-” She pursed her lips in thought. “After the demon left you, you were free to do whatever you pleased. You are the tsar. If you had ordered all of the wealth in the kingdom brought to you, it would have been done. If you had ordered me into your bed, I would have had to obey. But instead you chose- this.”

She picked up one of the pieces of paper off the floor. With a start, she realized it was a drawing of her. Stunned, she chose another one. Again her own face looked out at her.

“How-How many of these are my likeness?”

“Oh.” He had turned again, sitting against the desk, facing her. “Probably not more than… several dozen.”

Now it was his turn to blush. She looked down at her likeness, then back up at him. “Why did you draw several dozen pictures of me?”

“You said something about my coming down to dinner?” He abruptly changed the subject and stood. 

“Are you willing to do that?” She asked, dropping the image of her face to the floor and standing as well.

“If it will shut you up.” He turned and started walking towards the door.

“Not like that.” She said, grabbing his arm.

“What?” He looked down at himself and then back at her. “Oh.”

She gaped in amazement for a second. Somehow he really hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t dressed. The man had no sense of shame.

“Where are your clothes? I can send for a servant to-”   
“No!” He yelped. His eyes were suddenly wide.

“No clothes?” She asked, very confused.

“Just- Not my clothes. Please?” His face was a dark mask of pain.

“If not your clothes than whose? Mine?” 

“Of course not.” The pain disappeared from his eyes, replaced by childish irritation. “A man’s clothes, certainly. Surely you have spare lying around?”

“Alright.” She said, grudgingly. “I will fetch a servant and have them bring you… whatever spare men’s clothing they can find that suits your station.”

“Thank you.” He said, closing his eyes.

“And I will see you at dinner?” She asked firmly.

“Yes, yes. Send the servant and leave me in peace.”

He pushed her towards the door. This time she let him. As the door clicked behind her she took a moment to lean against it, feeling a bit lightheaded. Somehow she had succeeded. 


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius and an unexpected guest come to dinner

He paced. The room that had felt like a refuge now felt like a cage. Why on earth had he agreed to go to dinner?  
The effect of his concentration on the drawing of the bird were already dissipating. He put his hands over his ears, but of course it had no effect. He could still hear it.  
_Pretty girl. Who is girl? You like girl? Want her?_  
As usual he did his best to ignore it. Sitting down at the desk, he stared at his drawing. Ran the details of it through his mind.  
_We are helpful. Want girl, we get her. We help._  
The bird’s wing had a small imperfection. The outline of one of the feathers wasn’t quite solid. He took the pen and delicately shaped it until the flaw had been purged.  
“Sire?”  
The new voice startled him, evaporating his focus. It took him a second to realize that it was real. “What?” He demanded.  
“Milady said I was to dress you?” The voice said, sounding uncertain now.  
“Oh.” He looked at the young woman and the folded garments she was carrying. Blessedly he did not recognize them at all. “Yes. Please.”  
Her eyes briefly touched on his bare chest and then lifted. She moved towards him very carefully, setting the clothing on top of a pile of drawings. Then, slowly and formally, she began attending to him.  
He let himself appreciate her. The look of her. The feeling of her hands. Not a lot. Just enough to feel a slight warmth.  
Some instinct inside him fought it. Still believing that anyone he let himself be interested in would be his next victim. But he ignored that impulse. In the last few weeks it had gotten easier. For a long time he hadn’t been able to feel anything pleasant at all.  
“It’s finished, sire.”  
“Ah. Very well.”  
He looked down. The clothing was too large. Even if it had been his own clothing, he knew that would have been true. He knew he had lost weight. But this was clearly meant for someone with a larger build than his lanky one. Someone with bulging muscles and a shelf full of military trophies. Possibly Irina’s father himself.  
“Milady said I was to escort you to dinner as well?” The girl said, uncertain again.  
He nearly laughed. Of course Irina had left nothing to chance. He was being dragged to dinner one way or the other.  
“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” He said, grasping her hand like a child being led by its mother. She pulled her hand away immediately, astonished by the impropriety.  
“This way, milord.” Was all she said, then hurriedly she disappeared back into the hall.  
He watched her go. She didn’t have Irina’s grace, but there was something about her delicate motions that was intriguing. The way she placed her feet before each step in order to not make any sounds.  
_Want this girl?_ The voice said.  
He gritted his teeth, focusing on the tiny details of her steps, and followed the maid.

As they entered the dining hall he was still watching the maid. He watched the way she swayed as she walked and the tentative way she motioned him to his seat. It would be challenging to capture on the page, but a challenge could be good.  
“You decided to honor us with your presence, your Highness?”  
He looked up, noticing for the first time that the room was actually quite full. Besides Irina, her father, and his wife, who were on his side of the table, Ulrich, his wife, his daughter Vassila and her new husband Ilias were also sitting opposite him. Ilias was staring at him as if he were made of solid gold, a fact that he chose to ignore. Instead he turned toward Ulrich, who was the one who had spoken.  
“My lady asked me to dine with you, and so I am here.” He said, smiling and looking towards Irina. “I can deny her nothing.”  
“Oh, I’m sure you deny her some things.” Vassila said, with a smirk. She was cradling her stomach, which was noticeably rounded. He had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes.  
“Enough talk. Sit. Our food will get cold.”  
He sat. Irina glanced at him, as if to ask if he was feeling well. He ignored it and turned to focus on the meal.  
“Have you been enjoying the country, your Highness?”  
Ulrich again. “I have enjoyed being away, yes.” He answered truthfully.  
“And in that time have you spent much time thinking about the state of your kingdom?” Ulrich’s face was becoming red.  
“I acknowledge I haven’t. I have been unwell.” He focused on his food, spearing a mushroom.  
“You were meant to sign a treaty with the Ruskavite faction last month.”  
“They never respected a treaty before.” He smiled, chewing the mushroom delicately. Savoring the flavor. “Why should they start now?”  
“Our foray against the Polonian border incursion was beaten back. Reinforcements had to be summoned from the duchies. The capital was unresponsive, citing your illness.”  
“I am glad the duchies are doing their part.” That seemed like a piece of Lord Reynauld’s work. He would conserve their forces against the possibility of rebellion if he could. It was one of the reasons he trusted him.  
“And now the river Neris has run dry.” Ulrich was practically shouting at this point.  
“Am I responsible for the weather as well?” He heard himself say. Heat rose in his own face. Damn. This dinner already wasn’t going well.  
“Responsible for the weather?” Ulrich laughed. “I suppose you are right. In order to be responsible for that you would have to be responsible for something, a feat of which I do not think you are capable.”  
He was about to reply when he saw it. A figure, not more than five or six inches tall, standing on the table in front of Ulrich. It was looking up at him and grinning, gesturing in his direction.  
_Bad man. Punish?_  
His mouth ran dry. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the maid again. The way she had bowed when she had left the room. Her pale blue eyes.  
“What, no witty response this time?”  
Anger rose up again. He opened his eyes. The figure was still there, and it was still grinning. It jumped up and down and kept jerking its arms as if it were pulling on something.  
“We are in danger of a famine. The capital reserves will not protect you if the crops fail. Even if you are a coward you can’t be that much a fool.”  
The rage hit a fever pitch. He found that he was standing.  
_Yes! Punish!_  
The creature leapt up and grabbed Ulrich’s copious beard, yanking it powerfully downward. His face rammed into his plate, causing mushrooms to fly in every direction. Within seconds it was over, and everyone was staring at his standing figure.  
“I-I don’t feel well.” He said, turning and almost running out of the room.  
It was true. His stomach was churning. He had signed his death warrant. Even after he had escaped from his demon, he was still cursed.

She forced herself not to stare after her husband’s retreating figure. Instead she yelled, “Ugna, please apologize to the duke for your clumsiness.”  
The poor girl stepped forward from her place against the wall and stammered. “I am so sorry your grace.”  
It was the same serving girl from the hall. She relaxed. The girl was smart enough to play along with this as well.  
“It is a small matter.” Ulrich said, shooing away the girl’s urgent attentions as she tried to pull bits of quail out of his beard. “Please let me be.”  
“I think I should go and check on my husband.” She said, standing. Her father gave her a brief look. He had also seen than Ugna was not responsible for Ulrich’s accident.  
She shook her head slightly. He responded by relaxing in his chair, although his face was still lined. She bowed to the others and then hurried towards her husband’s room.  
The door was open when she arrived. He was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, rocking slightly. When he heard her approach he whirled around as if he expected a weapon.  
“Wife.” He said, cautiously. “I guess that dinner did not go as well as you expected.”  
She closed the door, then turned back to him. “Is it Chernobog? Has he returned?”  
“What?” He bolted upward, shaking his head vigorously. “No! No. You banished him, remember?”  
“Then… how?”  
“I guess that you are not willing to believe I had nothing to do with it?” He laughed brittly.  
“You haven’t made a bargain with another demon?” She felt a wave of real fear. Maybe she had been too quick to trust him.  
“No!” This time he was angry. “Do you think that I would ever do that? Is that how little you think of me?”  
“But I saw it.” She shook her head. “There was nothing there, but Ulrich was thrown forward.”  
“The damn thing did it by itself.” He yelled. Then he seemed to realize what he had said and his expression turned from anger to anguish. He continued, sadly. “Do you think it feels different to be burned alive if it is on the outside instead of the inside? I’ve been wondering about that. Maybe less painful?”  
“No one is going to burn you.” She walked over and took his hand. “I blamed it on the serving girl and she went along. Everything is fine.”  
“You did?” His eyes lit up and he threw his arms around you. “Oh, bless you Irina. Bless you and your unreasonably devious mind.”  
And then he was kissing her. All of the thoughts flew out of her head in a moment. There was only the feeling of his mouth, just slightly rough from his beard. Warm and wet and inviting.  
He pulled away with a jerk, as if only just realizing what he was doing. “I’m sorry. For a moment I almost forgot that you hate me.”  
“No.” She protested, the feeling of his lips still lingering on her own. Then, feeling very daring, she leaned in and kissed him again.  
This time he didn’t pull away. She ran her fingers through his hair. It had gotten very long in his months of convalescence. It felt like silk in her hands.  
His hands ran down up her side, lingering on her hip, then finding their way upwards until he cradled her breasts. He made a soft gasping sound and pressed himself against her. The heat of him made her feel like gasping herself.  
“No.” Suddenly he pulled his arms away from her. “I… No. I can’t.”  
“What?” Her mind was slow, and she was having trouble registering the words.  
“A nice try at getting an heir out of me.” He smiled coldly. “But not tonight. I am tired.”  
“Tired?” She couldn’t keep an edge of anger out of her voice.  
“Yes. Making deals with demons is very tiring. So if you would please leave me to get some rest, I would appreciate it.”  
She opened her mouth a few times, then closed it. He was looking at her with sad, haunted eyes. Somehow she knew it was the wrong time to press him.  
“Will you come to dinner again tomorrow?” She asked instead.  
“Why not?” He laughed. “This time I can summon a herd of demons. I am sure Prince Ulrich will be very impressed.”

 

He lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling long after she left. It wasn’t the feeling of her body that haunted him. Or the beauty of her face. It was the way he felt when she had told him that she had saved him again. An unfamiliar sense of comfort and safety. 

He knew he couldn’t trust her. But he kept remembering that night. When he had burned and burned and had truly believed that his soul was lost and that he would simply burn forever as Chernobog devoured the world. And then she had held him in her hands and declared that he was hers. Hers.

The tears came against his will. He sobbed into his pillow to muffle the sound. All he wanted was for that to be true. For them to belong to each other. Then he could just reach out and accept the warm promise of what she offered him.

But he knew that it was all an act. Irina was the daughter of a duke, and she had been trained, as he had been, to always think of her house and her station above all else. How he hated that. Almost more than Chernobog he had always hated it.

No, Irina and her kisses were all lies. Deception carefully crafted to gain her and her father power in his court. And once she achieved that power, he knew that all of her kindness would evaporate as if it had never been. Just like everyone else who had ever pretended to be kind to him.

__Knock knock_ _

__ He dried his eyes. Was that her knocking? Had she come to try again? Luckily it would be hard to tell that he had been crying in the darkness. He didn’t want to let her know how much she had affected him.

But when he opened the door it wasn’t Irina. “Ilias?”

“I heard that you and your wife slept in separate chambers.” He stepped inside and closed the door, leaving them alone in the shadowy room. “I am pleased to see that is true.”

“What-” 

“Shh.” Ilias pressed a finger to his lips. “I saw the way you looked at me at dinner. I too know what it is like to be married to someone you don’t desire. And to be denied the one you do desire. Oh  _ my heart is like a wounded rose, it bleeds for you. Shall I compare you to the sun in the sky? Or something even more needful, the very breath I breathe?” _

__ He tried not to laugh. Ilias’s poetry was just as bad as he remembered. But then, before he could regain his composure, Ilias was kissing him.

It felt good to be kissed by someone who had nothing to gain by it. If they were found out, it would be terrible for them both. Adultery was frowned upon but tolerated by the nobility. Degeneracy, however, was almost as likely a death sentence as witchcraft. He leaned in, caressing Ilias’s lips, savoring him in a way he had never let himself savor anyone.

“Ah.” Ilias pulled away, smiling. “I knew it. I knew that you must feel the same way as I do. I have imagined this so many times. When I lie with Vassila, it is always you in my arms.”

The talking is not nearly as good as the kissing. He pulled Ilias close again for a kiss and ran his hands down his chest. The firmness of a man felt good in a different way than the softness of a woman. 

Then he felt Ilias respond to his touch. Somehow that was too much. The little voice in the back of his head had managed to stay quiet up until now. But the prospect of real intimacy made his heart beat fast in his chest.

“Don’t stop.” Ilias whispered.

He tried to go back. To feel the warmth from touching Ilias again. But now all he could feel was the fear. 

“I’m sorry.” He pulled away. 

“No. Of course.” Ilias’s voice trembles. “I knew the risk. I knew you would know it. I just hoped-”

With that he turned and ran out of the room. The door shut with a barely audible click. It was as if Ilias had never been there at all.

He stared after him. For several moments he just stood there.

The fear didn’t leave him. It was not as strong, but still present. It made him wonder. If he couldn’t take advantage of an opportunity like Ilias, someone who wanted him, who had nothing to gain, would he ever be able to with anyone?


	3. The Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina is going to get Mirnatius out of his room one way or the other

“Pardon me sire, but can you please wake up?”  
He opened his eyes. Somehow he had made his way to bed and even fallen asleep. The quality of light and the look on the maid’s face seemed to indicate that he had even slept a little bit late.  
“I don’t see a breakfast tray.” He remarked.  
“Milady said to clean your room and prepare you for an outing.” She said, curtsying.  
“Ah. Milady told you that, did she?” He buried his head in his hands. Irina’s meddling knew no bounds.  
“I’ll just clean these up.” She said, turning and bending over to collect some of the discarded pieces of paper.  
He watched with disdain as all of his work was swept up into the maid’s arms. However, with some satisfaction, he noticed that she was not having an easy time. The number of pieces of paper was large, and the piles were almost a half a foot deep in some places.  
The he saw them. Little men like the one that had been at dinner. They were following the maid around, collecting papers and setting them into little piles.  
_Helpful, helpful. Help girl. Make clean._  
Whenever she would turn toward one, they would stop building the piles and move onto another. However, soon several ordered piles had appeared where only chaos had been before. The girl stopped and looked, slightly puzzled, then smiled.  
“My mother always said that in a well kept home the Kaukas watch over you.” She picked up one of the piles. “And do little favors. We used to leave out bread and warm milk for them. Of course that’s all pagan superstition.”  
She looked over at him. He carefully studied her face, trying to understand what the girl knew. But instead of saying anything more, she just turned back to her task. And even though she had noticed the little piles, she didn’t seem to be able to see the little men. On a few occasions she nearly stepped on one, but they quickly dodged out of the way.  
Soon she had all the papers gathered in her arms. “I will find a safe place for these and tell milady that your room is prepared.” She curtsied and started to leave.  
“Wait.” He jumped up. “Could you… send me some bread and warm milk. For breakfast.”  
“Of course.” She said, looking from his face and then back into the room. “For breakfast.” Then she curtsied and closed the door behind her.  
Their task done, the little men slowly disappeared again. He could still hear their voices though. Helpful, helpful, helpful They kept saying. Unfortunately all of his paper was gone, and he had no way to drown out their annoying voices.  
Then the door burst open again. This time it was a herd of people, carrying bolts of cloth. He barely kept himself from moaning.  
“Milady told us to produce a suit of clothing for you specifically for your outing.”  
“Of course I live to serve her.” He said, gritting his teeth and trying to prepare himself for the inevitable unpleasantness of the next few hours.

She waited patiently in the coach. It was another unbearably hot day. She was sweating under layers of petticoats and other undergarments. But of course it would not be proper to be seen in public without them, so she tried to take slow shallow breaths and fanned herself vigorously.  
The coach door opened. Her husband stood in the door. She tried not to let the shock show on her face. Although the clothes fit significantly better than the mess he had worn to dinner, he had still managed to choose something truly awful. It was an outfit made almost entirely of black cloth, which highlighted his thinness and somehow made his dark skin seem pale. The effect was to make him look like an animated corpse. Even the beauty of his eyes could not make him look attractive in it.  
“Is something amiss my dear wife?” He said, in a loving tone. His eyes, however, were filled with barely contained malice.  
As the carriage started to move, she noticed that the sleeves were trimmed in red. Overall it gave the effect of fresh blood spilled over his corpse like flesh. She was sure that was also deliberate.  
“You might have considered a different color, given the heat.” She said, simply.  
“Oh.” He seemed surprised. “I suppose it is hot.”  
This time she couldn’t keep herself from gaping at him. But when she really looked, she saw that he wasn’t even sweating. This obviously made him uncomfortable, and the anger in his eyes was replaced with thoughtfulness.  
“Well.” He said, folding his arms. “Not all of us are descended from ice fiends.”  
She tipped her head, acknowledging his point. In general she was more sensitive to the heat than the average person. However, she knew that the footman who had escorted her to the carriage and several of the serving girls had also been struggling with the heat.  
“If it pleases you then I am pleased.” She said finally. “I know that you found your other clothing disagreeable. I wouldn’t want you to wear something you had already worn.”  
“I am exceedingly vain.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Now, what is the purpose of this outing dear wife?”  
She resisted the urge to slap him. As usual he behaved more like a child of five than the ruler of a sizeable kingdom. “I thought that fresh air would help your health. And give you a chance to survey the state of your lands in Visnya.”  
“Ah. So we are putting on a performance for Prince Ulrich then.” He leaned back in his seat. “He was determined to undermine me last night. It seems that I am derelict in my duties in every respect.”  
She bit back an icy retort, and simply thought to herself Maybe if you had left your rooms in the last three months or even worn a reasonable suit of clothing to dinner then it would not be so easy for him. Instead she said, “Prince Ulrich is worried about the future of the kingdom.”  
“Do you believe that?” He glared at her. “Like every lordling he is thinking about the future of his own power first, middle and last. Although he put on a good show of it, I will give you that.”  
She could not refute this point. Until her marriage to the tsar, Ulrich had had every reason to believe that his daughter would be tsarina. With that hope gone, Ilias was his only reason to support the tsar. Not close enough to the succession to inherit, but still tied to the court in a way that would lead to disgrace if the tsar were deposed. But Ulrich was a master strategist who had won countless battles, and he would fight just as hard in the field of politics.  
“Regardless.” She answered. “You can’t deny the accuracy of his claims. In your absence the kingdom has suffered.”  
“Wife.” He covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know how many times I can tell you this, but I do not care at all about treaties or skirmishes. Wait a month and there will be another. It makes no difference in the end.”  
“There is some truth to that.” She said, gritting her teeth. “But as he says, if the rains do not come, we will face a famine that we cannot simply wait out.”  
“Then you also think I am responsible for the weather?” He asked, a flush of pink rising into his sunken cheeks.  
“And you are sure you are not?” She asked carefully, quietly. It would not be good if the driver overheard their conversation.  
“No! I-” He hissed, moving from anger to confusion and back to anger. “No. Of course not!”  
“Neither you nor whatever demons were plaguing you at dinner?”  
“They aren’t demons.” He protested weakly. The anger had drained out of him. He looked thoughtful again.  
“Whatever they are, could they be causing this?”  
“No. No. The servant girl said they were house spirits.” He waved his hands dismissively. “They like it if you give them warm milk and bread. I doubt they have ever even left your father’s house.”  
“The servant girl could also see them?” Irina asked, confused.  
“No, I don’t think so.” He put his hand over his face. “I find myself in a situation where a girl from the country raised on old superstition knows more about what is happening in my life than I do.”  
“Well, something must be doing it. The river Neris has never run dry. And Ulrich suspects you.”  
“Well, it isn’t me. Or any house spirits.” He folded his arms.  
“Do you think they might know what is doing it?” She asked.  
“You want me to ask them?” He laughed. “Are you asking me to make deals with demons now?”  
“You said they weren’t demons.” She shrugged. “And asking questions is not the same as making deals.”  
The carriage stopped. “Anyway.” She said to him. “Please try to pretend to be the tsar for a little while. We’re trying to convince these people that you are their loving ruler, who cares about them and their suffering.”  
He laughed. “Loving ruler? I do not think you have any idea what most tsars are like.” He said, just as the doors opened.

“Our irrigation system is dependent on a series of interconnected waterways. Neris is one of the main tributaries, but of course most everything is dependent on the Nemunas itself. The Sesupe, the Nevezis, the Merkys, the-”  
He couldn’t bear to listen to any more of Lord Andris droning on and on. Nearby Irina looked as miserable as he felt. Her fan was moving at full speed but it didn’t seem to be helping much.  
He, however, still barely felt the heat. Every so often he noticed one of the servants looking at him. Irina had been right. Choosing black had been a terrible idea. But he had not realized how much it would make him stand out.  
He tried to remember the last time he had felt hot. Certainly many times when he was tormented by Chernobog. But also every summer that he could remember, up until the recent interminable winter. And then, after the demon was banished, not a single time. There wasn’t a single instance he could recall.  
“Would you like a tour of our fields?” Lord Andris gestured towards the waving plants.  
“We would be delighted.” Irina agreed. He barely kept from groaning. More lectures were sure to be forthcoming.  
As he turned to follow them, a flash of light briefly blinded him. He covered his eyes, trying to block it out. But then the light moved.  
“Ah. My dear, please go on without me.” He said. “I think I’m having one of my episodes.”  
“Are you sure you want us to go on without you?” She asked, clearly annoyed at having to suffer both the heat and Lord Andris’s lectures alone.  
“Sorry but yes. I will just stay here and try to work on that thing we talked about earlier.”  
Irina nodded, the annoyance disappearing. “I see. Alright. We will be back shortly.”  
As soon as they were out of sight he cupped his hand around the light. If he stared at it for a moment, he could almost make out features. There were eyes and a little mouth turned up in a mischievous grin.  
“Do you understand me?” He asked the light, feeling a little foolish.  
The light flickered. “Does that mean yes?” He asked. The light flickered again.  
“Well, it seem that is the case. Creature, do you know what is causing this intense heat and lack of rain?”  
The light dimmed. “I suppose that means no?” The light flickered. He sighed. Apparently speaking with demons was not as helpful as his wife had hoped.  
The light flitted out of his hand. Something like an arm seemed to be gesturing at him. “You want me to follow you?” He asked, finally understanding. The light flickered.  
It dashed off into the field. He had a moment of doubt. What was it they said about following fairy lights? Nothing good.  
But he knew what Irina would say. “Think of the fate of the kingdom and the birds and the blah, blah etc.” So reluctantly he followed.  
His sense of unease only deepened as they got further into the field. A different kind of warmth was flooding through him. One that he was still able to feel, even if he didn’t necessarily want it. So when he pushed through an especially thick patch and saw a naked woman standing in front of him he almost wasn’t even surprised.

“Usually I learn a woman’s name before I see her unclothed.” He said. The warmth was building inside him against his will. Despite the terrified voice in his head he felt his body responding to her.  
_I am Jievaras._ She walked up to him, eyes scanning his body possessively. _What do you want of me, witch?_  
“I’m not- I mean-” Her hands were touching him. His skin was on fire. He could barely keep from crying out. “I would like you to know that I am married.”  
She smiled. _Human contracts are meaningless._  
“Well, this human contract is protecting my soul from a particularly nasty fire demon, so it’s a bit important to me.”  
_I see._ She looked at him more intensely, eyes flicking to the ring on his finger, then nodded. _You are already twice owned by a god and a Staryk noblewoman._  
“I am not owned by anyone.” He protested, pulling away from her. “And I don’t want anything from you except to ask a question.”  
_I will answer your question, for a price._ She stepped towards him again, tangling her hands in his hair and capturing his lips with hers. For a moment he was completely lost, burning with passion. His hands moved against his will to touch the unbelievable curves of her body.  
“No. No.” Somehow the terror inside him was stronger even than the feelings she brought out in him. “Anything but that.”  
_Anything?_ She pulled back, thoughtful. Mercifully the burning desire diminished and then was gone. His body relaxed as if the feeling had never been.  
“Well, maybe not anything-” He said, realizing how completely out of control the situation has gotten.  
_You offered anything._ She smiled, and her teeth look much sharper now. _It has been some time since I have tasted witch’s blood._  
“Wait just a moment.” His heart beat fast. Damn Irina and her schemes. Asking questions is not the same as making bargains she said. But no, as well he knows, you can get nothing in this world without paying the price for it.  
_Just a taste_ The pupils of her eyes had swollen and vast empty blackness looked back at him.  
“You must understand, given my situation, that I am wary of making deals.”  
_I do not want your soul, witch_ She laughed, a sound like the wind rushing through the fields. _I will not be third place on that crowded contract._  
“Just a single drop of blood then.” He offered shakily. “And no other further obligations?”  
_Agreed._ Her black eyes were gleaming with anticipation now.  
“Then we have a bargain.” He said holding out his hand.  
_No, not there._ She said.  
Then she was touching him again. Lips ran up his thigh. Horror flooded him. She kissed upward until she reached the intersection of his thighs. And then suddenly, violently, she struck.  
He fell backward, shaking. But she was no longer touching him. She was just standing there in front of him, licking her lips and smiling.  
_Your fear and your desire are an excellent spice._ She said.  
“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal.” He tried to make it a joke, but his voice was shaking too badly. “Now for my question.”  
_Ask._  
“How can I restore the flow of the river Neris?” He asked. It was a bolder question than he originally intended, but given his current state of emotions he felt like he had earned it.  
_You ask much of me, witch_ She said, suddenly cold _But a deal is a deal. You must find what has been lost. Return to the place you most fear. When the rains fall on the seventh day all will be clear._  
“I give you blood and you give me- poetry?” He shouted. “I should have known better than to bargain with fairies.”  
_It is the answer you seek._ She shrugged. _Now unless you have changed your mind-_  
She stalked towards him again, and he felt the heat rising. But this time, instead of embracing her, he turned and ran.  
Several minutes later, after running for what seems like an eternity, he looked up and Lord Andris was looking up at him. “Did you change your mind about the tour your Highness?” He asked.  
“Oh. Of course. I could not bear to miss it.” He said, trying not to pant from breathlessness. Internally he cursed. After suffering loss of blood and bad poetry, now he would have to suffer Lord Andris’s lectures as well. 

She managed to smile politely during Lord Andris’s lectures, and even during the outdoor luncheon that he insisted that they attend. Meanwhile her husband was sullen, refusing to look at anyone or respond to any questions that he was asked. She seethed internally, and tried to convey to the other guests that he had been unwell and was still recovering.  
When they were finally allowed to leave, the instant they were both within the confines of the coach she turned to him and snapped, “Can you truly not have a civil conversation with anyone?”  
“So I am not only required to attend these performances, you expect me to put on a show as well?” His green eyes flashed angrily.  
“Is it so much of an effort to be kind for five minutes?”  
“In my experience, yes.” He snarled. “Am I inconvenient for your schemes? Next time please inform me of exactly what I need to do to please you. I am clearly too stupid and rude to guess it on my own.”  
“I don’t believe for a moment that you are stupid, although it seems to please you to try and give that impression.”  
“Then maybe you can accept that I have reasons for the things I do.” He snapped.  
“As you apparently had reason to disappear when Lord Andris was giving us a tour of his fields?”  
“You were the one who asked me to talk with the demons.” His face shifted suddenly from anger to horror.  
“You did it then. What did they tell you?” He just looked at her. “After all the trouble you gave me today, you won’t even tell me what happened?”  
“I escaped with my soul intact thankfully.” His smile was vicious. “I appreciate your concern.”  
“Surely they did not ask for your soul in exchange for the answer to a question?” She replied angrily.  
“Not that, but I did pay dearly.” He looked away from her.  
“Well then, since you have paid so dearly, what was the answer?”  
“I am just a tool to you.” He laughed. “You don’t care at all what it costs me to be used.”  
She groaned in frustration. “The kingdom is in danger. For once can you think about someone besides yourself? At least understand that you and I will both die if the duchies have an excuse for an uprising.”  
“Ah, of course, I must think of the good of the kingdom.” He turned back to her, eyes cold. “But as for my life, most likely I will be dead either way. The demon she told me to-go back.”  
“To go back where?”  
“To the place I fear most.” He laughed again. “Home.”  
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “We should have returned to the capital months ago. It is your stronghold. All of your armies and lords are there.”  
“Do you really believe that? Why do you think I traveled so much before we wed, wife? I am not stupid, but even the cleverest man would struggle to make alliances while the demon inside of him randomly murders everyone around him on a whim. And the games they play in the capital are complicated and deadly enough even for the well loved.”  
“All the more reason for us to go back and set things right.”  
“Everything is so simple in your mind.” He looked away again. “Even with the demon’s help I only ever survived there because of him.”  
“Because of who?” She asked, confused.  
“If you are going to force me to do this I need a few things from you.” He turned towards her again, eyes boring into hers.  
“I should not have to force you to think of your kingdom.” She snarled. “But I will do whatever I can to help you, as your wife.”  
He rolled his eyes. “Well, as my wife, you will excuse me from any more dinners until we depart.”  
She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a glance. “I need to prepare some things, not the least of which is my strength to tolerate more of these performances. I will not be worn down by Prince Ulrich’s lectures.”  
“Fine.” She replied. “But in return, you must do something for me.”  
“If you want to drag me out to any more fields I-”  
“No. You must sleep in our bedchamber.” She insisted. “The servants talk, and if you will not come to dinner and be my husband there, I will have at least that much respect for our marriage vows.”  
The color drained from his face. “If you are trying to get an heir out of me then-”  
“You don’t have to provide your- services.” She tried not to sound bitter. “Just sleep in the same chamber. That is all I ask.”  
“Fine.” He replied. “I will do that for you. But you must do one more thing for me.”  
“Alright, what must I do to earn the right to sleep in the same bed as my husband?”  
His face was suddenly very serious. “Do you have someone that you completely trust?”  
She instantly saw Magreta’s face in her mind. “Yes.”  
“Before we go, I need to send a message to someone. No one in your household can know except this person. Do you understand?”  
“I do not understand, but I have promised to help, so I will do my best to trust you.”  
He sighed, looking tired. “We do not have much reason to trust each other wife, but if we are going to survive this I suppose we have little choice.”


	4. Prepare to Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina gets Mirnatius to do something else he hates

He stared into the fire that the servants had lit in his room. If they had not thought him insane before, they surely did now. The mad tsar who asked for a fire during one of the hottest summers in the history of Lithvas. But they had blessedly asked no questions, and he had been able to do the required work in peace while the rest of the household was enjoying their dinner. In the past he would not have needed the fire, but he would far rather have the servant’s gossip than pay that price again.  
It should have been unbearably hot, but he still felt nothing. Curious and half terrified, he reached his bare arm towards the flames. Still nothing, although the ring on his finger began to tingle a little.  
Knock knock   
He quickly jerked his arm out of the fire. The servants must have grown inquisitive after all. Thankfully he had already finished. Annoyed, he went to see who had come to bother him.  
“Ilias.” He pulled the princeling inside. “What are you doing here?”  
“I-” Ilias glanced at the fire, then let his eyes linger on his bare chest. “Can we put out the fire? It is terribly hot in here, and I am not planning to take my clothes off this time.”   
“Of course.” He turned so that Ilias couldn’t see the amused smile on his face, stirring the embers and tossing sand onto the fire until it died down. Then he turned to open one of the windows.  
“Don’t.” Ilias put his hand on his shoulder. “I do not want what I have to say to be overheard.”  
“I thought you were keeping your clothing on this time?” He said, smiling seductively.   
“The matter is very serious.” For once Ilias did not look at all flirtatious. “They were saying at dinner that you intended to return to the capital, and I excused myself immediately.”  
No one could possibly think that odd, he thought. But out loud he said, “We will return to the capital in a few days. I have been feeling better, but still need some time for recovery.”  
“Yes. They also said that you intended to give up your private rooms.” He looked sad for a moment. “So I knew I had to tell you as soon as possible.”  
“Tell me what?” He asked, trying not to laugh at Ilias’s dramatic speech.  
“My father in law does not mean you well.” Ilias looked stricken. “He has made plans to try and snare you in some political game. Of course I have gone along, but you must know I could never mean you harm.”  
“Oh?” He said, really struggling not to laugh now. Of course Ilias felt that he had to come warm him about things that he felt were patently obvious to anyone with eyes and ears.  
“We both know you are not well loved in the capital.” Ilias looked like he might cry. “I fear for you there.”  
“I am- honored.” Was all he could think of to say.  
“My father in law thinks that he knows everything, but I still have secrets from him.” Ilias looked at him, and this time the passion was back in his eyes. “Take this. There are those who are loyal to me who will recognize it, and protect you.”  
It was a brooch. The swirling pattern was clearly intended to resemble a peacock, with emeralds where the tips of the feathers would be. Even with the clothing he had previously favored it would have looked ostentatious.  
“This is a lovely gift.” He said, after a moment’s pause. “I don’t know how to thank you.”  
“I think you do.” Ilias said, blushing. Then he stepped forward and they were kissing again.  
He let himself enjoy it. Ilias had made it clear that he wouldn’t try to take any more from him this night. With the hand that wasn’t holding the brooch he reached out and stroked Ilias’s face.  
Ilias pulled back. “Wear it, and I hope that we will meet again in the capital. But until then, it is too dangerous. Even though I cannot bear it, we must be apart.”  
This time he almost did laugh, but he managed to keep it to a smile that he hoped looked seductive. “Then until we meet again in the capital.”  
Ilias blushed again. Then quickly he turned and walked out of the room.  
He looked down at the brooch. It was gaudy enough that it would surely annoy Irina. For that reason alone he would happily wear it.

Another servant came to escort him to Irina’s bedroom. To their bedroom. He was starting to not be surprised every time his wife sent a servant to fetch him. She could not exert her control over him so she exerted it over the help.  
The room was dimly lit by candles on the bedside tables when he entered. The servant girl turned to go, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “No.” He said. “Stay and help me disrobe.”  
Irina was sitting on the bed, looking at him. Because of the heat, there were no blankets except for a sheet, and she wore a thin shift. She was fanning herself still, and as the servant girl finished her work, the fan began to move even more vigorously.  
“Are you satisfied sir?” The girl asked.  
He looked at Irina’s overly bright eyes. “Very satisfied. You may go.”  
As soon as the servant girl had left, Irina scowled and said. “You seem very pleased with yourself. Don’t tell me you are feeling flush?”  
“I find it easier to sleep this way.” He crawled into bed next to her, ignoring the sheet.  
For a moment she just stared. “Nothing cutting to say to me?” He asked. “Are you feeling well, wife?”  
Her eyes moved grudgingly to his face. “You know very well that you are beautiful.” She replied.  
“Be careful wife. That almost sounded like a compliment.” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling.  
He could feel the heat of Irina through the sheets. Apparently he wasn’t immune to that. But she didn’t reach for him. Her voice was almost composed when she said, “Thank you.”  
For the first time he was actually lost for words. He turned his head towards her and instead of her usual haughty look her eyes were sad. “I was not sure you knew those words.” He said finally.  
“I have been unfair to you. Even cruel.” She set aside the fan and turned towards him. “But I don’t want to be.”  
He froze. His air of casual indifference was suddenly impossible to maintain. Her words were stroking the dim embers of hope inside of him and he felt like crying out. Or running from the room.  
“Pretty words.” He managed to say.  
“I realize that you have been alone for a long time. Worse than alone.” She reached out and touched his face.   
He leapt out of the bed. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed, quiet enough that the room guards wouldn’t hear.  
“I’m sorry.” She said, gesturing at the bed. “It won’t happen again.”  
He eyed her, then eyed the bed. His heart was racing. Why had her touch frightened him so badly? Feeling foolish, he lay down in the bed again.

“I want to help you. When we are back in the capital.” Irina spoke slowly, like she was choosing her words carefully.   
“Can you deflect knives?” He joked.  
“I can if I know who is sending the knives. For every person who wants you dead there are five others that want them dead. It is only a matter of sorting out who wants to kill whom.”  
“You have a truly frightening mind.” He laughed. “I think half of my kingdom may be dead within a week of your arrival in the capital.”  
“And love. It is useful to know who loves whom. That is-” She looked pointedly at him. “If anyone in the capital is capable of love.”  
“You were the one who just coldly explained to me how you would kill half of Lithvas and you want to know if I am capable of love?” He gave an indignant snort.  
“I am capable of love.” She replied defensively.  
“It took you this long to even thank me. I wasn’t sure if you were even capable of that level of kindness.”   
For a moment she said nothing, and then “Do you really hate me that much?”  
He looked at her with his mouth wide open, “From the first day that we were married you have done nothing but scheme to overthrow or kill me, frequently both at the same time. Shouldn’t I be asking what I have done to be hated so much by you?”  
“I didn’t hate you.” She shook her head. “It was the demon I hated.”  
“And then, in the period since it has been gone, why have you been trying to get me killed now?” He realized that he was shaking again.  
“I haven’t!” Her voice was almost loud enough to make him worry about the guards. “I haven’t. Why do you think that?”  
“You forced me to confront Prince Ulrich at dinner when I was still struggling, and I barely escaped a burning. You forced me to talk with the demons even when it put me into danger. And now at your command I am going home again, to a place where there will be dozens of people to help you put me in my grave, if we are lucky enough to make it that far.”  
“I-” She turned her face away. “I suppose I have done those things.”  
“Yes, you have.” He felt like he might die from satisfaction at getting her to admit it.  
“I think-” Her voice was tinged with horror. “I think I stopped thinking about you as a human being. You are the tsar, and I am the tsarina, and we have a duty to the kingdom. But that doesn’t mean that I should forget that I have a duty to you as well. As a wife to her husband. As a person to a person.”  
The words exploded in his chest like a firework. It was more than he could take. He crumbled inward, clutching his knees, tears forming.  
“I’m sorry-”   
“No.” He interrupted her, took a moment to catch his breath, then continued. “It’s just, no one has ever really treated me as a person. As the witch’s child I was a nuisance at best. And at worst… at worst.” He gritted his teeth in anguish. “I was a monster.”  
“You can’t let yourself feel bad about what it did forever.” She turned towards him again. “You said before that you had never done anything good. So, even if I have asked you to do dangerous things, you are doing good things. You are helping people.”  
“It is nice to believe that.” He uncurled a little, brushing the tears away. “But you do not know what horrible things we may have to do before this is done. Being a monster did not make me a bad tsar. It made me a strong one. And now-”  
“You do not have to be a monster to be a good ruler.” Irina objected.  
“You never met my father. He was a strong ruler. Karolis was like him. So strong. He tried to train me so I wouldn’t have any weaknesses, but he failed. Even years after his death, years where Chernobog took everything from me over and over again, I still felt the loss. I never stopped feeling it.”  
“Having emotions is not a weakness.” Irina protested. “And if your brother and your father were so strong, then why are you here while they are gone?”  
He didn’t have an answer for that. The thought had never occurred to him.   
“Someone who has emotions can love and be loved.” Irina continued. “And earning people’s loyalties is worth more than earning their fear.”  
“I wish you were right.” Was all he said. Then he reached out and pinched out the candle light. Irina sighed, but took the hint, and the room was plunged into darkness.


	5. The Baubas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are worse things than house spirits

“Are you certain about this?” Irina looked worriedly at the darkening skyline outside their coach.  
“If I wanted to be certain of anything, we would never have left your father’s house.” He looked down at the jeweled box in his hands. It was only one of the ominous gifts they had received as they set out for the capital.  
Prince Ulrich had insisted upon being present for their departure. And giving them several of his own guards, since the tsar had brought only a handful of men, who were surely out of practice after months away from their stations. And that they must stay the night with his friend Prince Mazeika, who would treat them as a tsar and tsarina ought to be treated, unlike the boyars that he had stayed with on their journey to Vysnia.  
The entire speech gave him chills. Meanwhile his wife was fanning herself and looking distracted. Somehow her devious mind didn’t seem up to battling the heat.  
And even worse, the entire population of house spirits had seemingly come out to bid them farewell. Dozens of them were clustered around the doorway. They danced and tumbled over each other, looking very merry and singing _Helpful, helpful, helpful. We help to stop the bad man._  
Of course Irina did not notice that either. No one but him was forced to watch their ridiculous display. When they finally entered the coach to depart, he thought that he was finally rid of them.  
“Please tell me-” He began to say to his wife, when all of a sudden one of the little men walked into the coach through the closed door like it wasn’t even there.  
_Helpful, we stop the bad man._ It said, and deposited a loaf of bread on the floor. _No stop. Keep going._  
“What is it?” Irina asked, noticing that he was distracted.  
“Do you see that?” He motioned towards the bread.  
“Oh. Where did it come from?”  
Before he could answer her, another little man had already entered the carriage. It deposited an apple on the floor of the carriage, and repeated what the first little man had said.  
“It’s the house spirits.” He said, as he watched several more men enter the carriage and deposit food. “They keep telling me that we shouldn’t stop. I suppose they mean we shouldn’t stay the night with Prince Mazeika, which is pretty sound advice I think.”  
“You aren’t suggesting that we travel through the night?” Irina stopped fanning herself, which really showed how distraught she was about the suggestion.  
“That seems to be what they are suggesting.” The little pile of food had grown quite sizeable, and contained a lot of food that would travel well. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Food this simple seemed like a waste of time to put into one’s mouth. But if the other option was to stay the night in the residence of someone who was almost undoubtedly planning to kill them, he supposed he would have to make do.  
“Are you sure we should trust them?” Irina asked, eyeing the growing pile.  
“We started on this journey based on the advice of demons. Why stop listening to them now?” He smirked.  
There was a tug on his pant leg. He looked down, and a very serious little face looked up at him. It was holding his jeweled drawing case up to him with both hands.  
He reached down and took it from the serious looking spirit. It looked up at him with frightened eyes and said _For the Baubas_ Then it turned and ran out of the coach.  
“Wife, what is a baubas?” He asked, trying to sound calm.  
“I have no idea.” She started fanning herself again. “Do you think it is much use against bandits? Because if we are traveling at night, that is what I am most worried about.”  
Now, as night approached, he looked out the carriage door at the setting sun. He was also worried about it, but not for the same reason as his wife. Somehow, instead of disappearing, the last red rays of light seemed to brighten. To coalesce into two burning orbs that stared back at him.  
His hands on the drawing case began to shake. “I hope you know what you are doing little men.” He said, opening the box and withdrawing pencil and paper. Then, like a man possessed, he began to draw.

Irina was jogged out of a fragile sleep by a sudden jolting of the carriage. When she opened her eyes, the sun had completely sunk out of sight. It was pitch dark, except for the low burning lamps that flickered outside their windows, and the carriage was no longer moving.  
“Husband.” She looked over and saw him bent over, seemingly not moving. “Mirnatius!”  
“What?” He scowled. As he uncurled she saw that he was furiously drawing something. His eyes were wide and exhausted.  
“We’ve stopped.”  
“Oh.” He looked down at his drawing and then back at her. “Irina I-”  
He was interrupted by a high pitched scream. She could also hear the sound of steel on steel. Swords had been drawn.  
Her husband pushed his drawing at her. Looking at it, she almost screamed herself. A hideous dark creature with twisted limbs and horrible, malevolent eyes looked out at her.  
“Guard that.” He said, opening the door. “I will try to be quick.”  
“What-” She tried to ask, but he had already leapt out of the carriage.  
Then she felt it. A kind of a chill. Despite the heat, she shivered.  
She gripped the drawing. Her husband had told her to guard it, and that meant that he thought it was important. Scanning the terrible lines, she knew it was not a work of his imagination. He had seen this creature.  
The crown of Staryk silver on her head started to pulse. She felt as if she were trying to remember something she had forgotten. A familiar thing on the tip of her tongue.  
Suddenly, the door of the carriage flew open. Frightened, Irina fumbled at the handle of her door and tumbled backwards, landing gracelessly on the ground. The cold was biting now, and she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.  
Someone cried out. She turned her head and saw a group of men fighting. It was the guards Prince Ulrich had sent, fighting with the tsar’s men. And with them, a dark, hard to identify shape that she realized was her husband.  
“Mir-” She tried to shout, but the cold was too strong. She fumbled with the paper, holding it in front of her. Willing it to help in some small way.  
She needed him. Without the ring or the necklace she didn’t even have the power to escape. She could only hold his drawing and pray that it would be of use.  
But he was preoccupied. Grappling with one of the guards. Holding his arm over the guard’s face while the other man flailed and seemed to weaken. After a few moments the guard fell to the ground, unconscious. But as her husband stepped away from his falling body, another guard was already turning towards him, sword raised.  
The cold felt like icy fingers on her skin now. She needed him. Needed the ring. Could only stare at the paper and will it to give her what she needed.  
The lines started to glow. Heat flowed out of the drawing. In front of her, in vague outlines of smoke, she saw something that looked terribly, unpleasantly familiar.  
She heard her husband cry out. When she turned her head, he was grimacing, clutching his hand. The guard he had been fighting looked confused, but quickly moved to take advantage of the sudden weakness.

“Mirnatius!” She screamed.  
Her scream seemed to focus him. He drew his sword and barely managed to parry the guard. The two of them danced into a shadow and she lost track of her husband again.  
But the cold had returned. Yelping, she focused on the drawing again. The heat slowly flared up, and she heard her husband cry out a second time. Hopefully he wouldn’t be as surprised this time, she thought. At the moment she had very little choice.  
She stood, pushing the drawing in front of her. The lines brightened and she felt the heat increasing. Smoke was billowing outward now, filling the air and blinding her to everything else.  
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Suddenly her husband was there, shirt torn in several places. Then he looked up and froze.  
“Give me your hand!” She said, grabbing it before he could respond. As soon as the cool metal of the ring touched her hand, the drawing lit up as bright as the noonday sun.  
For the first time she could see the thing in its entirety. Somehow his drawing had not quite captured all the horror of it. Sharp, jagged lines that gave the impression of teeth but at the same time moved. Long thin fingers like the legs of a spider. And eyes that glowed with red malevolence so violent that it nauseated her.  
And then it was shrinking. Glowing bright with the light she was pouring into it. Disintegrating. Pieces flying away as if blown by the wind.  
Then they were both standing together in the dark again. He looked at her, then looked back at the place where the creature had been. Then his eyes closed and he fell forward.  
She knelt down, cradling his head. She felt the warm wind of his breathing and sighed with relief. But even when she shook him he did not rouse.  
“Are you alright?”  
A guardsman was standing over her. He wore the tsar’s colors.  
“I think so.” She looked up at him. “What happened?”  
“When we told the new guards that we didn’t plan to stop, they were very angry, but they obeyed the tsar’s orders. But as the night went on, they were still acting strangely, and then suddenly, they attacked us for no reason.”  
“But you were able to restrain them?” She asked.  
“We were surprised and they had us outnumbered.” He gestured to the tsar. “But then he came and put them all to sleep. And just now, the great light, my lady, is it true what they say about him? Is he-”  
“It’s late.” Irina looked at him coldly. “We are all tired. You don’t know what you saw.”  
“That is probably true, my lady.” He said, bowing. “Now, what should we do with Prince Ulrich’s men?”  
“You heard the tsar. We aren’t stopping. Load up the carriage and leave them behind.”  
“Yes your highness.” He bowed again, and turned to leave, when Irina said, “But before you go, help me to get the tsar back into the carriage? He is heavier than he looks.”


	6. Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius trades sarcastic remarks with Lord Reynauld

“It seems like he is waking up.”  
He squinted against the brightness of the room. It was exacerbating the dull ache in his head. But then he felt a hand running down his side and his eyes flew open.  
He was surrounded by beautiful women. The beauty of their faces and their bodies was only outshone by the beauty of their clothing. One of them was the one who had touched him, as she was pulling back the sheet of the bed he found himself in.  
“Our lord was worried about you.” The woman holding the sheet said. She leaned down, displaying her ample bosom. “But we knew we would be able to wake you.”  
“Your lord?” He looked at them, fighting to remember through the pain. “Ah. So he did get my message?”  
Another woman pushed past the first woman, leaning even closer to him and stroking his arm. “Lord Reynauld told us to burn your horrible clothes and dress you so you are fit to be in his presence.”  
“That does sound like something he would say.” He smiled.  
“Please let me dress you your highness.” The second woman said. “I have very gentle hands.”  
“I was the one who woke him up.” The first woman objected, leaning down so that his face was almost touching her breasts.  
For a few minutes it went on like that. They kept jostling each other and teasing him. He smiled good naturedly, but his headache kept him from really enjoying it. Eventually they agreed to take turns dressing him and he found himself in an elaborate white outfit with red accents and gold trim.  
“Now you almost look like the tsar.”  
He turned. Lord Reynauld was standing in the doorway, looking at him with mild disapproval.  
“Wearing the entire wealth of Lithvas on my person becomes tiresome.” He joked.  
“I saw that horrible monstrosity you had on when they carried you in. Are you planning to join a monastery?”  
“I like black. It brings out the color of my soul.” He rubbed his eyes, willing the pain to recede. “Speaking of my clothing, I will need it back. It has- ah- some tricks I picked up from you.”  
“I noticed.” Lord Reynauld shook his head. “Your use of oil of vitriol was sloppy. Three quarters of your guards think you used magic to put Prince Ulrich’s guard to sleep.”  
“Well, you did not respond to my note quickly enough and I was out of options. Would it have been better if I had killed them all and let Prince Ulrich hold that over me?” He snapped, wincing at the pain his outburst caused to flare up again.  
“Where did you even get it?” Lord Reynauld let a bit of curious admiration creep into his eyes.  
“The green stone is abundant in Vysnia.” He waved his hands. “The only hard part was convincing the servants that I was not mad to want a fire for the distilling.”  
“Well, we all think you are mad anyway.” His face was suddenly serious. “What possessed you to stay in Vysnia for three months? Murdered guards or no, you already gave Prince Ulrich a gift. Not to mention some other dangerous players.”  
“Did you not hear? I was not well.”  
Lord Reynauld studied him. He looked back, letting all the exhaustion and pain of his time since the demon was exorcised fill his eyes. After a moment Lord Reynauld nodded.  
“There is something- different about you.”  
“Well, the most important thing about me right now is that I would like breakfast.” He said, ignoring the implied question. As the pain in his head abated, the rumbling of his stomach became more noticeable. “Something that is not day old bread and hard cheese.”

When they walked through the door into the dining room Irina was there. He froze, staring at her. Suddenly all he could think about was the feeling of whatever she had done with the ring. How he had been helpless again, unable to control his own body.  
“Mirnatious, I-” She looked away from him, then back again. “Husband, are you feeling well?”  
“I will feel better after I’ve eaten.” He replied, forcing himself to sit across from her at the table.  
“Your wife told me you passed out after the fighting. Did you accidentally inhale some of the oil of vitriol?” Lord Reynauld seated himself at the head of the table, which was immediately to his right.  
“Light headedness is an unfortunate side effect of my illness.” He said. Truly he felt that magic was an illness he could not seem to cure himself of, so it was not even a lie.  
“What is oil of vitriol?” Irina asked.  
“A recent medical breakthrough. In small doses it reduces pain. In large doses it induces sleep and even death.” Lord Reynauld explained. “Most sane people would not choose to dowse themselves in it for those reasons.”  
“In the fighting I may not have used the exact prescribed dosage.” He snarled. “But like my teacher, I am sometimes excessive.”  
Lord Reynauld laughed. “I do not think that myself or anyone else could ever be considered excessive compared to you.”  
“Teacher? Lord Reynauld, are you a physician then?” Irina asked.  
“Physician, poisoner, whichever is most useful.” He interjected, before Lord Reynauld could answer.  
“Poison?” Irina looked down at the trays of food and turned white.  
“Don’t worry wife. Lord Reynauld would never poison a guest.”  
“The tsar is a flatterer as always, but just because one is familiar with poison that does not make one a poisoner.” Lord Reynauld picked up and bit into one of the exquisitely intricate pastries from the center of the table. “And it has been many years since I was a practicing physician. No, I just humbly manage my lands and give what advice I can to the capital.”  
“Pardon me for asking this, but it does seem odd. How does a physician end up on the tsar’s council of lords?”  
“Ah.” Lord Reynauld leaned back. “You know that the tsar’s first born son, Karolis, became ill when he was very young and almost died?”  
“You mean because of the wi-” Irina’s eyes widened and she suddenly realized what she was saying.  
“Yes. The crime my mother was burned for.” He replied casually.  
“It wasn’t witchcraft.” Lord Reynauld waved his hand dismissively. “That is just the superstition of the common folk. It was poison. Your mother was not the first or the last to try to use it for power, but unfortunately she was one of the least skillful. It was slow acting enough that I was able to revive the boy. And the tsar was so grateful that I was gifted a lordship.”  
“I feel that we have spent enough time discussing my mother.” He angrily lifted a pastry and bit into it savagely.  
“You say that it is- common- in the capital to use poison for personal gain?” Irina was looking pale again.  
Lord Reynauld looked at him, then at Irina, then back at him. The question was clear. He shook his head just a little, hoping that Irina wouldn’t notice.  
“It is a good idea to be careful who you trust your highness.” Their host replied finally.

“So.” Lord Reynauld turned towards him. “With my help you have dodged Lord Ulrich’s first few moves. He will not attempt anything while you are my guest, and to acknowledge that half his men fell asleep while guarding you is an embarrassment he will not allow to become publicly known. But the rumor in the capital is that you are either mortally ill or insane. Others will move quickly to profit off of that narrative. What do you plan to do?”  
“You are my lord and advisor.” He leaned back, suddenly tired. “Advise me.”  
“If you were your father or brother I would suggest a show of force. A duel or some other military exercise to show you are fit to rule.” He looked at his face and down at his frail body. “But we both know you would not survive such a display.”  
“Are you trying to give me advice or just insult me?”  
“I hope you understand the severity of the situation you have created.” Lord Reynauld continued. “You have always shown an uncanny gift for distracting your would be competitors with flashy parties and guests. But you lost that advantage when you left them to their devices for so long. They are no longer distracted.”  
“Don’t you think I know that.” He grimaced, fists clenched.  
“However, there may be a great enough distraction even for this.” Lord Reynauld looked thoughtful. “Michaelmas is in a few weeks. It would not be unseemly to begin preparing a celebration. And if you are lucky, that may keep the lords and dukes and their ladies busy enough for you to regain your footing.”  
“Planning a party in the middle of a drought may not win me many admirers.” He commented drily.  
“Nonsense. The worse the situation, the more the nobility will look for excuses to ignore it.” Lord Reynauld snorted. “And if the militias are well paid the people will just be forced to bear it if the harvest is poor.”  
“How can you talk so casually about innocent people starving to death?” Irina looked lost, as if she had found herself suddenly in a den of lions.  
“And what you have us do your highness?” Lord Reynauld asked. “If the tsar is killed, there will be fighting for succession. The people will be conscripted and abandon the fields. Even more will starve. And that is in the optimistic case that Polonia or Rosya do not take their advantage to invade us.”  
“I had no idea.” She looked at him, her eyes so full of pity that it felt like a physical blow. “And it has always been this way?”  
“Only as long as I have been alive.” He laughed, turning his head toward Lord Reynauld to avoid her eyes.  
“I know you prefer not to take sides, but you are going to need to court allies.” Lord Reynauld continued. “Prince Pavlis is a likely candidate. He has no love of Prince Ulrich, since they share a border. Or Prince Lanka. The drought has not affected his lands as heavily, in that they are rocky and not fertile. In fact he has benefited from the increased production of tools for irrigation. He will relish a chance to increase his power in the capital.”  
“Pavlis is a coward. He won’t fight, if it comes to that.” He said dismissively. “Lanka has neglected his militia. The rocks in his duchies are too easy to defend. And I doubt he would leave it, even if I made him Lieutenant General of my armies.”  
“I see you are not in a mood to listen to reason. Whoever you can manage to tolerate as an ally will have to do. Continuing on as if you don’t need anyone will not serve you anymore.”  
“For what little it is worth, my father will support you.” Irina said quietly. Then she continued, growing more confident. “And through him there is reason to believe Prince Casimir may as well.”  
“Casimir?” Lord Reynauld looked horrified. “He is most certainly first in line to have the tsar’s head on a pike. He was one of the strongest generals in the last war with Polonia. He has a lot of political and military power and little reason to use it to help the current tsar.”  
“Not when Lord Ulrich’s position is so strong. Neither of them want to take on the full might of the capital. Much better to arrange it so the capital will support their claims.” Irina smiled. “But he does not have a strong tie to the capital and Lord Ulrich now does. Since he is unmarried and has no children to marry off, he has no prospects of gaining any either. That is unless he himself can marry someone in the tsar’s inner circle, which he will not easily be able to arrange without the tsar’s help.”  
“Ah.” Lord Reynauld looked thoughtful. “I had not thought of it that way.”  
“Irina is a master at political schemes.” He said. “Despite her protestations about the people’s well being.”  
“I am glad to see that you did not entirely make your choice based on her beauty.” Lord Reynauld said, smiling at Irina. “I would like to hear more of your plan, tsarina.”


	7. Love and Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina is annoyed at Mirnatius for not telling her everything

After an hour or so of discussions, Irina announced. “This has been a delightful conversation, but after our intense journey and given the recent heat I feel the need to retire to our rooms for a bit.”  
“Of course.” Lord Reynauld gestured towards the women who were grouped behind him. “Feel free to make use of any of my servants if you need anything.”  
“Actually, I need to discuss something with my husband. Privately.” She said, looking at him intently. “If you would spare him for a moment.”  
“Of course. I would never interfere with matrimonial matters.” He smiled at him with a look that said what he thought Irina would like to discuss with him in private.  
He tried not to blush as he followed Irina out of the room. The serving girls looked sullen, staring angrily at Irina. Lord Reynauld always had extremely willful servants, even if they were exquisite beauties.  
“Please excuse us.” Irina said, when they reached their rooms. She looked down demurely, smiling as if she were embarrassed.  
The girls pouted, but they obeyed. He stared after them for a moment, until he felt a hand on his arm. Irina pulled him angrily into the room. The smile had suddenly disappeared.  
“Why didn’t you tell me the attack on your brother was poison?” She snarled.  
“Exactly when was I supposed to tell you that?” He sputtered. “When you were trying to kill me? Or recently when you have been making we wander through fields and ask questions of demons?”  
“It never struck you as odd.” Irina continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “That your mother, a witch who controlled a powerful demon, tried and failed to use poison to kill your brother?”  
“She was a witch.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean she was smart.”  
“Also, that look that Lord Reynauld gave you when I asked how many people had been poisoned in the capital. That means the poisoning of your brother wasn’t the last time it was tried.”  
“What are you trying to say, wife?”  
“Your father and brother died of a fever. A fever like the one your brother was stricken with when he was young. I thought it was the demon. But it wasn’t, was it?” Her eyes were wide and she was breathing quickly.  
He looked down at her and sighed, folding his arms. “Although it will surely damage your high opinion of me, you are correct. We-it was not responsible for my father and Karolis’s death. Chernobog would never have been that subtle. Nor would he have chosen to forsake such a tremendous meal as a tsar and his son, given the chance.”  
“Then who?” Irina shook her head. “At that time, your mother was more than ten years in the grave.”  
“I don’t know. Lord Reynauld didn’t know. The only thing we know is that he wasn’t in time to save them. And who cares?” He shrugged again. “They are dead either way.”  
“Who cares? You should care! Someone has been poisoning members of the royal family for almost two decades. And Prince Dimitir-” She went pale. “He also died of a fever. It could be the same person.”  
“No.” He said simply.  
“No?” She was suddenly outraged. “Just because you don’t want to think about it-”  
“I said it wasn’t the same person.” He replied, annoyed.  
“How do you know?” She demanded.  
“Because the person who killed Prince Dimitir was Lord Reynauld.”

 

_It was just after midday. He had blessedly escaped from the ever present guards by excusing himself to walk in the gardens. Turning the corner, he saw the person he had come to see._  
_He felt something almost like warmth when he saw Lord Reynauld’s face. The demon inside him was sleeping, but it moved a bit. Sensing his weakness. He focused on the threads of Lord Reynauld’s clothing and managed to make himself feel nothing._  
_“You recognize this?” Lord Reynauld pointed at a nearby plant in lieu of a greeting._  
_“Nightshade.” He replied, focusing on the extremely delicate loops of embroidery on Lord Reynauld’s collar._  
_“Good. And how would you kill someone with it?”_  
_“The roots are best.” Lord Reynauld’s jacket was a beautiful blue crushed velvet. “In a pinch the leaves and the berries can also be deadly, if you use enough.”_  
_“Correct. And why is such a thing being grown in the tsar’s gardens?”_  
_“Because the gardener is an idiot who picks things that look pretty and does not know anything useful.”_  
_“Correct again.” Lord Reynauld stood, smiling. “You are an excellent student.”_  
_“Thankfully, since the instruction comes so seldom. I suppose that your beautiful servants keep you busy?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but a little bit of a tremor crept in._  
_“I wish it were something as nice as that.” Now Lord Reynauld was frowning. “I imagine it comes as no surprise to you that you will soon come of age.”_  
_“It has occurred to me.” He said. Fear gripped him like a vice, and this time the demon did wake briefly. Cackling to itself. Drinking his fear like it was a rare vintage._  
_“Then this may not surprise you.” He passed him a letter, which had the ragged remains of Prince Dimitir’s seal on it._  
_As he read it, he couldn’t keep his heart from pounding. The demon was ecstatic, waving fingers of flames through him. Devouring his fear. He barely registered the pain._  
_“They plan for a hunt to celebrate my birthday it seems.” He said numbly. “Where I will be tragically killed by a stray arrow.”_  
_It wasn’t really a surprise. He had always known that Dimitir would find a way to be rid of him eventually. But to look down and see his future written on a piece of paper was somehow hard to bear. And all that stood between him and death was the unreliable monster that was currently so thoroughly enjoying his suffering._  
_“Tell me boy.” Lord Reynauld said quietly. “What plant is best if you want a person’s death to go unremarked?”_  
_“Nightshade is too quick and painful.” He said thoughtfully, grateful for the distraction of answering a question. “Monkshood is too unnatural. I think, if I needed someone to die without questions being asked I would choose Hedera.”_  
_Realization dawned. He looked up at Lord Reynauld, who just looked steadily back at him. In order to distract the demon from his rising emotions, he jammed his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood._  
_“You are a smart boy.” Lord Reynauld came up to him and wrapped him in his arms. He counted the number of threads in his collar. When the emotion threatened to exceed the pain in his now bleeding hand, he started imagining how he would draw them all, one by one._  
_“You will be a wonderful tsar.” He said. For a moment his eyes glittered in the light, then he turned and was gone._

“That look on your face.” Irina said, after he had finished the story. “I had no idea you cared that much about anyone.”  
“What?” He asked, confused.  
“Lord Reynauld. It’s clear that you really love him.”  
“What? No.” He laughed. “Me? Love a noble? You might as well tell me I loved Chernobog.”  
“Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about anything but yourself?” Irina asked, frustrated.  
“The lords serve me. They have no choice.” He scowled. “As you had no choice but to obey your father and marry me. As I have never had any choice in anything at all.”  
She stared at him. “I don’t believe that. I cannot speak for Lord Reynauld, but I know that I have made choices. I didn’t have to save you from the demon. My father and I were going to-”  
She stopped, blushing and looking away. “So you finally admit that you had planned to be rid of me then?”  
“I did plan that, I admit it.” She turned back towards him, eyes steady again. “But only because I knew nothing about you. And when I knew you, I-” She blushed again. “It doesn’t matter.”  
“Don’t pretend you love me.” He said coldly. But his heart was beating fast in his chest and the look in her eyes was filling him with a not entirely unwelcome warmth.  
“I don’t know if I love you or not.” She replied, seeming surprised at her own words. Then, angrily. “But I know there is more to you than your sharp tongue and the impenetrable wall of ice you hide behind.”  
“Ah, am I the icy one wife?” He snarled. All of his warm feelings evaporated. “You never have a kind word for me unless you need me for something. And why even spare a kind word if you can benefit from my pain without even asking permission?”  
“What? I never hurt you.” She protested.  
“This.” He raised his hand. “I don’t know how you did it, but you used this to summon fire. Do you know what that feels like? It feels a lot like being burned from the inside. It feels like the worst torments that Chernobog ever inflicted on me.”  
“Oh God.” She sat heavily on the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”  
“Would you have stopped if you had known?” He demanded.  
“No.” Irina admitted, crumpling in on herself. “I was too afraid.”  
“I thought about throwing the ring away. But of course I can’t. It’s all that is keeping me from being tormented by Chernobog again every single day.” He was breathing heavily. “I am trapped between two monsters it seems.”  
“Don’t say that.” Irina said quietly. “I won’t ever do it again. No matter what danger I am in. I promise.”  
He looked down at her, trying to stay angry. She looked so horrified. He had never seen Irina look so uncertain of herself. Quiet determination and confidence was her most consistent quality.  
“No.” He said finally, sitting next to her on the bed. “Don’t promise that.”  
“Why? Why when it causes you so much pain?”  
“It is not the pain I mind.” He said, looking down at the ring. “Pain I am used to. What I minded was that you did not even ask me. You just used me. Even when I stood right beside you, you didn’t ask me.”  
“I-” Irina looked at him for a minute, then said quietly. “I didn’t trust you.”  
“I know.” He stood. “You don’t have to trust me. We are both just trying to survive a game our parents created. I understand that. Just don’t lie to me about how you feel, Irina.”  
Then he turned and walked out the door before she could reply.

 


	8. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius gets drunk

As soon as he was outside, a serving girl was suddenly there. She smiled at him like she had just won an amazing prize. He had to fight not to groan.  
“Lord Reynauld said to ask you when you were finished if you would join him in the study.” She said, batting her eyes at him.  
“Well, let’s not keep him waiting then.” He replied.  
She blushed at the curtness of his response and nearly fled in the other direction. He ignored her, distracted by his thoughts. Why had Irina thought he loved Lord Reynauld? She had seemed to have a good understanding of politics in other respects.  
“The study, your highness.” The girl said, more serious this time. At some point they had reached another door. She pushed it open without another word.  
“There you are.” Lord Reynauld waved a bottle of brandy. “Come have a drink with me.”  
He started to smile, then stopped himself. Maybe there was a little bit of warmth in his feelings about Lord Reynauld after all. Or maybe he was just happy to have a stiff drink away from Irina and her father.  
“I see your taste in brandy hasn’t improved.” He said, sitting and taking the glass Lord Reynauld offered him.  
“I developed a taste for it in my youth. Age and wisdom do not overcome the comfort of tradition.” He swirled his brandy and took a sip.  
“Any port in a storm, I suppose.” He replied, draining the glass in an instant.  
Lord Reynauld looked at the half full bottle of brandy, then back at him, and shrugged, pouring him another glass. “It seems like you need this more than I do.”  
“Why do women think they know everything?” He asked, drinking about half of the second glass of brandy.  
“Ah.” Lord Reynauld was smiling. “It seems that your business with the tsarina was not entirely pleasurable?”  
“Hardly.” He laughed, finishing his second glass. Lord Reynauld quickly poured him another. “She’s too clever by half. She figured out that father and Karolis died of poison. Now she is bound to add ten more things to her list of things I must do in order to protect the kingdom. And it was never a short list.”  
“She doesn’t know you well yet. The best way to keep you from doing something is to tell you that you must do it.”  
“But somehow when I’m with her I-” He stopped. Realizing how hard he had been trying to do everything Irina asked him to do. Lord Reynauld was right. That wasn’t like him.  
“I think I know what is different about you.”  
He whipped his head up. Despite everything, the death of his father and Karolis, the poisoning of Dimitir, he had never told Lord Reynauld about the demon. But he was a very smart man. Maybe if-  
“Irina. She brings something out of you. You were always so distant. It’s like she’s brought some life into you..”  
“What? No.” He took another big drink. “No. Irina never does anything but nag me incessantly.”  
“Are you sure? Because the way you look at her-”  
“What you you mean?” His face felt flush. Probably the drink, he thought.  
“Nothing.” Lord Reynauld said, smiling into his glass. “However, It has also not escaped my attention, as it will not escape the attention of the courts, that the tsarina does not seem to be with child.”  
“Are you going to nag me now too?” He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, and his words were slightly slurred.  
“Getting a child on a beautiful woman is not usually something that a man needs to be nagged into doing.” Lord Reynauld looked at him very seriously for a moment. “Is it because of your inexperience? I know that one of my serving girls would most likely-”  
“No. No thanks.” He jolted back in his chair as if Lord Reynauld might throw a girl at him at any minute.  
“Ah.” Lord Reynauld frowned. “If you do not find women attractive, I could see how it might-”  
“No.” This time he found himself standing, brandy sloshing dangerously around in his glass. “I find women perfectly attractive, thank you very much.”  
“Then why?”  
He just stood there with his mouth open. It was an outrageous question. It was insulting. He lifted the glass of brandy and drained it for the third time.  
“Why?” He laughed bitterly. Years of having a demon that killed anyone I even looked at for ten seconds was not an acceptable response. Everyone I’ve ever loved has died horribly sounded a little dramatic. Somehow he found himself saying, “My father and Karolis taught me how to fight. How to hate. I don’t think I know how to love something. Or someone.”  
He nearly dropped the glass. Surely he hadn’t just said that to Lord Reynauld. But instead of the disgust at his weakness that he expected, Lord Reynauld looked almost- tender. Like a father looking at his son.  
“I know you loved Karolis.” Lord Reynauld gestured for him to sit, and he managed it, even though the room was starting to spin a bit.  
“Did you know, when I was five, Karolis killed my favorite hound?” He said, tonelessly.  
“No.” Lord Reynauld said quietly.  
“It was just a pup.” He said. “I was so taken with it. It would follow me around and bark at anyone who came near me. I fed it scraps from our dinner table. But when Karolis found out, he pulled me aside and told me I was acting foolish. That I had let the dog become soft and spoiled and that it would never be any good for hunting. Then he stabbed it in the eye while I watched.”  
“That does sound like Karolis.”  
“But I did love him.” He lifted his hand, wiping away a tear he hadn’t known was there. “And what does that say about me? He murdered a puppy in front of a five year old, smiling the entire time like it was the most fun he ever had. And I loved him.”  
“He was your brother. Certainly he was not perfect. He was raised as you were, to believe that strength was more important than anything else.” He looked at him. “But you and Karolis are different. You have different kinds of strength.”  
“What strength do I have?” He said. The numbness of being drunk was not enough to stop him from feeling a stab of sorrow. Living with the demon had been unbearable. But without it he was so weak.  
“The kind of strength that will make men kill for you.” He said, smiling softly. “And a mind that can destroy anyone who stands in your way. Not to mention your wife.”  
For a moment he didn’t say anything. Just looked down at his empty glass. Remembering that day in the gardens.  
“I am not sure if Irina is quite frightening enough to keep the armies of Polonia at bay.” He said finally. Then, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Although-”  
“Speaking of Polonia,.” Lord Reynauld said, mercifully changing the subject. “Lord Ulrich tried to gather troops from the capital to meet their latest force. I was able to defer any use of force for now, but this is undoubtedly not the last time he will try.”  
“I thought that was probably your doing.”  
“Indeed. There is much that has happened in your absence. And now that your mood has improved, I think we should discuss it.”  
He groaned and leaned back in his chair. Preparing himself for a length conversation, mostly one sided. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make him enjoy one of Lord Reynauld’s political lectures.

 

He sat on a stone bench, staring at the sunset. Alone. Finally, blissfully, completely alone.

After his conversation with Lord Reynauld he had excused himself to go walk in the gardens. Lord Reynauld had looked at him curiously and said, “You may do as you please obviously. You understand that after you leave tomorrow we will not see each other until the council meets in a weeks time?”

“I understand.” He replied, annoyed at being treated like a child incapable of remembering anything.

“And you will make the plans for Michaelmas and speak with Prince Casimir before then?”

“I have already agreed to this several times.” 

“Then I will wish you good night. And hope that you live long enough that we will meet again in the capital.”

Lord Reynauld hadn’t smiled when he said it. He was serious. They both knew the danger he would be in once he returned home.

The last rays of sunshine were disappearing over the horizon. This time there were no terrible eyes looking back at him. Irina had banished the Baubus just as she had banished Chernobog.

Even after several months of being free from the demon, his body still tensed as the sun disappeared. Expecting to be filled with a different kind of darkness. But when a moment passed without the feeling of the demon rising up in him he relaxed.

But the thought of returning to the capital without the demon made him tense again. He had never had to push his way through the throng of nobility and hangers on without the demon to muddle their minds and turn them away. He had never had the physical threat of the military minded dukes aimed at him without the demon’s power to thwart or even devour them. Lord Reynauld had told him that he was strong, but he didn’t really know where his strength had always come from.

“I know what you would say if you were here, demon.” He whispered to himself. “That I am a coward. Weak. You would feast on my fear. How you would enjoy that.”

For a moment he could almost feel it again. The searing pain of being devoured by the demon. How he had wished he could die, but feared what would happen to his soul if he did. Day after day of endless agony.

“Nothing could be worth that. I would rather die than let you use me again.”

That helped. Anger rose up, driving the fear away. In the end, wasn’t it just one more torment that the demon had visited upon him? Making him dependent on it. Never letting him forget that he was the unwanted, weaker son. That he needed it because he couldn’t protect himself?

“Did you ever really do anything to help me I wonder. All of those years, telling me over and over that you were the only reason I was still alive. Was that even true?”

His experiences with the kaukas and Jievaras had shown him that demons had limited abilities. They were not all knowing or all powerful, and the usefulness of the power and knowledge they did have was unpredictable. He would never understand or forgive his mother’s choice to sell him to one of them.

A flash of white caught his eye. He smiled. Lily of the valley. And then, near to that, a bright shock of purple. Hellebore. They looked beautiful. They were deadly.

He reached out and plucked one of the white flowers. Along with drawing, memorizing facts had always been a way for him to block out the demon. He turned, scanning the garden. White bryony. Cherry laurel. Aconite. He laughed. Of course, Lord Reynauld had filled his garden with poisons. 

The lily of the valley looked so delicate and fragile in his hand. But with enough of them, you could kill anything. No amount of strength or speed could protect you from it.

“There are different kinds of strength.” He said to himself. And this time, he believed it.


	9. In the Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mature content.... So if you are not into it skip to Chapter 10

When the serving girl lead him to his room, Irina was already there. He kept his face neutral, and turned towards the girl. “Undress me.”

The girl smiled and complied. Her hands lingered over his chest, then slid down over the back of his pants. He pretended not to notice.

“Girl, would you help me to undress as well?” Irina was suddenly standing. There was only a little bit of a tremor in her voice.

“Of course your highness.” The girl said, although she looked much less excited about it.

After the girl had left, he watched Irina carefully, as if she were a tiger about to pounce on him. She just stared back resolutely and climbed into their bed. After that, he would have looked foolish if he did not do the same, so he joined her.

“I must admit your body has some of the charms your face lacks.” He commented.

“I am glad it pleases you my lord.” She said, in a tone that indicated the opposite.

“So you have decided that you are a pleasant and obedient wife now it seems?” 

“Is that your preference?” She rolled towards him, and the moonlight shining on her pale skin made her almost seem to glow.

“And then my part is the dutiful husband?” He reached out his hand and stroked her thigh. 

This clearly was not what she had expected. She looked down at his hand then back up at him. The look in her eyes was suspicious.

“You don’t have to do that.” Irina said.

He expected the fear to rise up. But somehow his time in the garden had made him bold. His hand stayed where it was, and he felt a little bit of heat growing inside of him. He slid his hands along Irina’s thigh gently and she closed her eyes, lips slightly parted.

“Is this how that dutiful husband would touch you?” He said His hand moved up, resting for a moment on her hip. Then he moved lower. “Or like this?”

“I think that is possible.” Irina said breathily.

He cupped her, feeling the heat and the beginnings of a slick wetness. It sent a little electric shock through him. Clenching his teeth, he barely managed to stifle a moan. His body began to respond.

She looked at him. Looked down at him. Her eyes became very wide.

“Never mind.” He pulled away. “I-”

“No.” She caught his hand. Gently pulled it to her breast. “Tell me more about what a dutiful husband would do.”

 

Her breasts were small but well rounded. Instinctively he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She arched and gasped. He felt the warmth in his body growing, settling into him like a weight.

“Do you like that?” He asked, teasing her nipple again.

“Yes. Yes.” 

“And this?” He leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth. Pulling her body into his. Grinding his aching hardness into her soft, wet warmth.

“Yes!” She arched into him and this time he did groan. She moved again, rubbing him against her. He gasped, burying his face in her hair.

Her hands started moving over his body. The movement of her hips against him grew insistent. He cried out.

“Mirnatius?” She pulled back from him. “Are you alright?”

He looked up at her. Her eyes were filled with concern. He knew what she was asking him, and he nodded.

“Dutiful.” She ran her hands down his chest, then pressed her face into it, kissing him. She took his nipple into her mouth and gently bit into it. He gasped and arched into her. Sudden tremendous warmth and pressure threatened to overwhelm him.

Her eyes went wide again. That cleared his head. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, pulling away.

“A little.” She acknowledged, then kissed him. “Not enough that I want you to stop.”

She wrapped herself around him, mounting him. Her hair fell down around her face like a cloud. Her breasts rocked with the motion of her body.

The pressure was so intense. It was like nothing he had ever felt. Building and building until he couldn’t think anymore.

He was lost. Waves of pleasure rolled into him. Irina’s pace grew faster and he watched as her face transformed with pleasure.

She shuddered. He looked up at her and she was beautiful. So beautiful and pure and good. Everything that he was not.

But he couldn’t find release. Somehow, just as the pleasure grew to a fever pitch, the fear returned. Worse than ever before. The warmth he had felt disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

He cursed himself. Of course he was still broken. Would always be broken. Irina was looking down at him in confusion, but he just pulled away. 

“Mirnatius-” She began..

“I think I am done being dutiful for tonight.” He said, rolling over so that he wouldn’t have to see her pitying look. 

Irina was silent for a moment. He knew she must be frustrated. After all of her effort, he still hadn’t given her what she wanted.

“It’s ok.” She was suddenly holding him. Circling her arms around his chest. “It’s ok.”

“Damn it.” He said, and burst into tears.

 

“I’m sorry I can’t be your dutiful husband.” He said, after his sobs had subsided, turning towards her.

Irina continued to hold him, stroking his back. “You were more than dutiful enough. I was not raised to expect so much kindness, to be honest.”

“What did you expect?” He said, looking sincerely confused.

“Ah.” Irina blushed. “Well, I was told that men take what they want, and that it is sometimes unpleasant for their wives.”

“Do you think I could ever do that?” He looked stricken. “After what was done to me?”

“No.” She acknowledged, ashamed that once again she had said something terrible to him. “I suppose that you could not.”

“I never-” He began, pausing as if in pain, the continued. “I’ve never been with anyone before tonight.”

“Truly?” She asked, remembering the skilled motion of his hands.

“I imagined it so many times.” He said. “But anyone I ever thought of actually doing it with… he would… they would…”

“What?” She asked, afraid that she knew the answer.

“The demon would devour them.” His breathing was fast. “Sometimes he would leave them for me to find in the morning.”

“That’s terrible.’ 

He was sobbing again. She looked down at him. There was so much about him that she didn’t know. So much that he would never tell her. Hearing even this much felt like a gift. Better than all the gold or Staryk silver in the world. She wondered if she would ever know even half of the suffering that he had endured.

“I’m terrible.” He said finally. “I can never make up for what happened to all those people, just because I wanted them.”

“They didn’t die because of you. They died because of the demon. You have to accept that.”

“I can’t!” He pulled away from her. “You think it’s simple. The demon was with me from the day that I was born. Everything I have ever done, everything I have ever been, has been influenced by it. Now, now that it’s gone, I feel empty. Like I lost a part of myself. Chernobog did terrible things, but he did them as part of me.”

“I understand. I think. The demon was such a large part of your life. You don’t know how to separate yourself from it. You don’t know who you are now. Is that why you hid in your room for so long?”

“I don’t know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The demon was a barrier between me and a world that has always tried to destroy me. And when it was gone, suddenly I was all alone.”

“You aren’t alone.” Irina said, touching his face. “You aren’t.”

“Maybe so.” He turned away from her. “We travel early in the morning. We should rest”

“Yes. Of course.” She said, disappointed. 

She watched him for a while, until his breathing slowed. This man who was her husband. There were so many things she wished that she could say to him, before they were swallowed up by the madness of the capital. So many questions that she wanted answered. But she was learning that all she could do was be patient, and try to trust the man that she suspected she was falling in love with.


	10. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little update after a long time... Vacation and holidays caused some issues -  
> Summary: Mirnatius and Irina have some problems in their first day in the capital

“Of course you must visit us again in Witebsk.” A voice said.

“We have missed your sense of humor in the north-”

“-expect that there will be some sort of festivity now that you have returned-”

“-would like to introduce my nephew. He is young, but well trained, and will be an asset in the fight against Polonia-”

“Please excuse me.” He said softly.

“-will look forward to speaking with you at dinner sometime-”

“-heard you haven’t been well. Of course we have always supported the royal family. We-”

“Excuse me.” He said more firmly, pushing his way through the crowd. There was a door in front of him. Somehow it seemed to be just out of reach, no matter how hard he tried.

He was surrounded by faces. Terrifying smiles with incredibly sharp looking teeth. Eyes that seemed to try to bore through him. They were everywhere. No matter how hard he struggled to escape, somehow they kept coming.

Hands were reaching out for him. Pulling him back. He couldn’t escape. In a panic, he threw himself forward at the door.

Somehow, miraculously, he managed to reach it. Throwing the door open, he dashed inside. Blissful darkness surrounded him. 

He sank to the floor, pressing his hands against his eyes. For every person that he had seen there was another horrible memory. A serving girl lying dead in his bed in the morning. Smiling and dancing with the daughters of nobles while the demon described all the horrible things it planned to do with them. And underneath it all the memory of searing pain. Burning, always burning.

A sudden light startled him. He looked down and gasped. Tendrils of fire were creeping up from his hand and snaking around his body.

_ Release me  _

He stared at the light. Horrified. The voice was more than familiar. He knew it almost as well as his own.

_ Release me and I will save you _

“Save me from what?” He asked, trembling.

Then he heard something. A real sound this time. Dripping. As if a light rain had started in the coat room.

He opened his eyes. It was dark, but somehow he could just barely see. On the far wall a stain was spreading. Little ribbons of moisture beaded off of it, falling to the ground.

He stood, staring at the wall. The stain was spreading. The dripping was growing steadily into a trickle of water. Then, horribly, the wall began to bulge outward. The bulge resolved itself into something like a face, with indentations where the eyes and mouth should be.

_ There you are  _ It said.

An arm pulled itself out of the wall, followed by a body. It looked like a woman, with long dark hair and the impression of breasts. Her face was expressionless, and her eyes were as black as night.

“W-What do you want?” He stammered.

_ What is owed.  _ She said.

_ Release me! _ The demon demanded.

But he ignored it, turning towards the door. Not fast enough. Tendrils of water seized his feet, tripping him. His breath went out of him in a rush. The darkness enveloped him and then-

 

“Mirnatius?”

They were standing in a crowd of people, who were all now staring at him. Irina’s hand was resting lightly on his arm. Her face was set in her usual distant expression, but he could see that her eyes were a little wide.

He reached up, rubbing his temple. “Sorry. I was just having one of my spells.”

“We heard that your Highness was not well.” 

A very fat woman walked up to him. She was escorted by a young man who looked like he had not yet had his coming of age. He blushed as she waddled up to them, as if he would desperately like to be somewhere else.

“You do look very pale.” She said, then curtsied. “But it has been some time since last I saw you. You don’t remember me, do you?”

The image of the woman in the wall was still haunting him. Absently he muttered, “I’m sorry but-”

“After the death of my husband our household was parceled off by the lords on the council.” Her face twisted in misery, jowls trembling. “My son and I were forced to live with my relatives in the country. But after I heard about your illness, I knew we had to come and see you. After all, we are practically family”

Her lips twisted up into something like a smile, but her beady eyes were cold, as if accusing him personally of her loss. He opened his mouth a few times, but no words came out. He was still reeling from his vision, or whatever it had been, and was not prepared for the emotional assault.

“We are terribly sorry for the hardship you have suffered, and so glad you have you here with us.” Irina said, inserting herself between him and the woman. He fought not to moan with gratitude.

“You are too kind your Highness.” She said, curtsying again. “And every bit as beautiful as they say.”

“I hate to leave the pleasure of your company.” Irina replied, smiling a forced smile. “But unfortunately my husband needs to rest. His condition has improved, but it is clear he is still not fully recovered.” 

“Oh, how terrible.” The woman’s face fell, but the young man next to her looked overjoyed. “Of course we will be staying in the capital for the next few weeks, and you must let us know if there is anything we can do to help the tsar regain his health. His weakness weakens the entire country after all.”

“Time is the best medicine of course.” Irina’s calm expression was finally starting to falter in the face of the woman’s persistent rudeness.

“Mother, please.” The young man reached out and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

She glared at him, then smiled back up at Irina. “My son has no manners. I hope you will excuse us.” Then she turned and angrily waddled off.

“Who was that?” Irina whispered to him.

“I’m not sure.” He answered truthfully.

“And are you- dripping?”

“What?” Suddenly he was very alert. He looked down. On the floor a small puddle was forming. 

Another set of nobles detached themselves from the roving bands and started to move in their direction. Irina looked at him. He stared back, unable to hide his fear and confusion. 

Irina turned towards the crowd and loudly declared. “The tsar and I are retiring to our rooms. He is still recovering from his illness. The evening’s festivities will continue in our absence. Please enjoy yourselves.”

Then she grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the room.

 

“And you said the demon spoke to you?” 

They were in their bedroom. He was trying desperately not to be overwhelmed by memories of things he had done in that room. And here Irina was, badgering him about Chernobog.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, resting his head in his hands.

“You don’t want to talk about it? You don’t want to talk about it!” Irina was practically screaming. 

“Please.” He pleaded. Chernobog had loved this room. The stones could be heated to tremendous temperatures without being damaged. He could roast a person to a crisp in seconds. And the thick walls absorbed the sound of screaming, so he could burn someone for hours and hours. Sometimes Mirnatius himself.

“Ever since we’ve been here you have been so distant. And now the demon that possessed you for more than twenty years is talking to you again. Despite being banished. What is going on Mirnatius?”

“I don’t know!” He stood, staring into her eyes. “I don’t know anything! All I know is that everything in this place reminds me of him! There isn’t an inch of it that he didn’t defile in some way or another. I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to think about him! And I definitely do not want to speak with him.”

“Then what about the other thing. The woman. The water at the party, you said that was because of her?”

“I don’t want it to be real.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know what to do if I let it be real.”

“Mirnatius.” Irina reached out for him, touching his face. “I helped you before, and I will do whatever I can to help you now.”

“Why won’t they leave me alone.” He collapsed against her, unable to keep the tears from falling any longer.

Irina held him for a minute, until he regained his composure, then said. “She said she wanted what was owed. Is it possible your mother made more than one pact with demons?”

“How would I know?” He laughed. “I’m sure she would have if she could. But the demon in the field said I was only twice owned.”

“Only twice?” Irina asked, puzzled.

“Chernobog and-” He blushed. “You.”

“Oh. Right.” She grabbed his hand, running her fingers over the ring. “Well, since I own you and everything, I promise not to let any harm come to you.”

He felt the ring pulse with heat and he gasped. Irina pulled away. “What happened?”

“It’s just like the time with the Baubas. When you pulled the fire out of me.” He lifted his hand and rubbed the ring. “It burns. Not as bad as that time, but a little.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No. No. It’s fine.” He stared down at the ring. “Actually, I have an idea.”


	11. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina gets some advice

An hour later she knocked on the door of his study. A fire was burning, making the room almost unbearably hot. Mirnatius was bent over his desk, hand moving furiously.  
It reminded her so much of how this journey had begun. With him locked in his room, ignoring her. She felt her stomach sink, as if she had swallowed a stone. It was as if the last few weeks hadn’t even happened.  
“Husband.” She said. When he didn’t turn, she tried. “Mirnatius.”  
His head shot up and suddenly his wide green eyes were fixed on her. He looked at her but didn’t seem to see her. With a shaky hand he held out a piece of paper.  
“This one is better. But I can’t seem to get it right. Lighting the fire helped me to focus, but for some reason-”  
She took the paper, glancing down at the dark lines. It was a tremendously realistic drawing, like all of his art. The woman’s face was beautiful, almost flawless except for the dark pools where her eyes should be. And there was something familiar about it. Irina wasn’t quite sure, but she felt like she recognized the woman somehow.  
“The house spirits told me that my drawings could protect me from the Baubas. I think they can protect me from her. But I just can’t seem to get it right.”  
He turned back to the desk, pulling out another piece of paper. Then he started to draw again. It was as if he had forgotten that she was even there.  
“Mirnatius?” She said softly. He didn’t show any sign that he had heard her. She hadn’t really expected that he would.  
She stepped out of the study, closing the door heavily behind her. Leaning her head against the door, she struggled to hold back tears. Damn him, she thought. Damn him for letting her feel so much for him and then pulling away from her so completely.   
They had barely spoken since the night when they had made love for the first time. It was as if an invisible wall had grown between them. The first day they had been back in the capital it was as if Mirnatius completely disappeared. He smiled whenever one of the servants or a visiting noble spoke to him, but it wasn’t him. The light in his eyes was gone.  
And she needed him. She had thought that she was prepared for the capital. Prepared to be the tsarina. But she had not really known the complexity of the social games.   
Her attempts to reach out to Lord Casimir had been rebuffed by a kindly worded letter with the words ‘I am sure you understand that the current tense situation with Polonia has kept us all very busy.” Which of course was also meant as a rebuke for the capital’s response to the dukes’ request for more arms. Not to mention a criticism of her husband’s perceived military weakness.  
She was so lost. And now she was standing there, alone, in the hallway, and everything was falling apart. Her father had often frightened her, but she found herself desperately wishing that he was there so she could ask for his advice.  
But then, of course, she wasn’t completely alone. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. Somehow she had gotten so caught up in being a wife, she had almost forgot about being a friend.  
Determined, she set out to find Magreta’s room.

She knocked softly twice on the door. It was late, but hopefully not late enough that her old friend was asleep. Still, she didn’t want to disturb her if she had already gone to bed.  
But despite her worries the door swung inward, revealing the familiar old wrinkled face. It was all she could do not to throw herself in Magreta’s arms. Magreta seemed to notice something in her expression because she reached out and grasped her arm.  
“Your highness? Is something the matter?”  
“Magreta please.” The formal address made her feelings of loneliness flare up. “It’s me. You’ve know me my whole life.”   
Magreta pulled her inside and closed the door. “Dear Irinoshka, you’re shaking. Tell me what’s happened.”  
She sat down in one of the beautifully upholstered chairs. Magreta’s room was very fine for a servant’s. In the past it had probably been used for visiting nobility. There had been a little grumbling from some of the senior staff at first, but Magreta had charmed them and now no one made any complaints.  
“Everything is falling apart.” Irina reached up and brushed away a tear. It felt good to cry. Sometimes she felt like she had to be so strong for Mirnatius, to support him, and she could never be weak herself.  
“It’s not like you to give up Irinka. What is so terrible?”  
“I thought that once we came back here we could fix things. Get support from the nobles. Find some way to deal with the drought. But since we got here there has just been an endless stream of criticism. I thought I knew how to help. How to be a wife. But everything I do seems to make it worse.”  
“Ah. Ira, you have always tried to do everything yourself. Ever since you were a little girl. You would trail after me and try to tidy everything.”  
“And then you would always laugh at me and do it over again.” She said, smiling.  
Magreta laughed. “Of course. You were too small to do those things. And now, these things that you want, you are not ready for them.”  
“If not me then who, Magreta? Mirnatius is-” She trailed off, not quite willing to finish her sentence.  
“He is not well.” Magreta answered diplomatically. “We both know that the illness that afflicts him has no cure. And he will either master it or be destroyed by it.”  
“That’s just it. It is destroying him. I thought he was getting better. He- I- We-” She blushed, overcome with emotions.  
“You love him?”   
“I don’t know.” She stood, pacing. “Sometimes when we are together, I see this light in him, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. But then, just when I start to trust him, it disappears. And then I’m left alone in the dark.”  
“Love is a luxury for us women. Pain for us is inevitable. But God made us strong so that we can survive it. And thrive.” Magreta sat on her bed and gestured for her to sit next to her. Sighing, she sat and leaned her head against Magreta’s shoulder. “You are tremendously strong Irinka. One of the strongest women I have ever known.”  
“If I am so strong, why can’t I do this?” She was crying again.  
“You are so strong, sometimes you try to force things to happen. But even strength has limits. Sometimes you have to let things happen on their own.”  
“You are saying I should wait? We are inches from a rebellion Magreta. We don’t have time to wait.”  
“I am saying that there are other ways. What have you tried?”  
“I have invited the noble families to the capital. Some have come, but no one of consequence. And Lord Casimir-” Irina sobbed. “I asked him for help. I thought that I could rely on him. But he dismissed my request so easily.”  
“You have spent too much time with your father. It is what he would have done, so it is what you have done. But you are not your father Ira.”  
“What would you have me do?”  
“Lord Casimir is unmarried, but he has a sister, does he not?”   
“Well, I mean, yes, I think so.” She replied. Then she blushed. Of course. She had tried to make demands of a lord as a man would. Years of watching her step mother had apparently taught her nothing. Of course there were always more subtle paths to walk for a woman.  
“I think that she might be quite amenable to a meeting. She will not travel to the capital, but you have the means to pay her a visit. Why don’t you write to her?”  
“You are suggesting that I leave the capital? Leave Mirnatius?” She remembered his face when he told her that the demon had spoken to him again. So fragile.  
“I am suggesting that you use all your resources to help him.” Magreta looked very serious. “What is best for him is not necessarily what is easiest for him. What he is facing, he will need to learn to face it by himself, one way or another. You cannot do this thing for him.”  
“Oh, Magreta.” She closed her eyes. “I am afraid for him. For us.”  
“It is alright to be afraid. But don’t let it make you stupid.” Magreta took her hand. “You can do this Irinka. I know that you can.”  
“Thank you Magreta. I have missed you.”  
She started to stand, and was overcome by a wave of dizziness and sat back down. That was another thing that made her nervous. Since returning to the capital she had been so tired, and the dizzy spells were getting more frequent.   
“Ira.” Magreta said softly. “May I ask you something?”  
“Of course.” She was slightly frightened by Magreta’s tone. Surely her dizziness was not serious. A little stress from all that she was going through.  
“Have you and your husband… lain together?”  
She blushed again. “Yes. A little. I mean, yes. Once.”  
Magreta smiled. “Once is all it takes.”  
“What do you-” She paled. “No. It isn’t- No. I’m just tired Magreta.”  
“Perhaps.” Magreta patted her hand and laughed. “I was just tired with my little Maria for nine straight months.”  
“Thank you. For your advice” She managed to stand this time. The dizziness was gone. She really was just a little tired. Probably.  
“Take care of yourself dear.” Magreta said, standing. “You care so much for the ones you love. Remember to care for yourself too.”  
“I will.” She reached out and drew Magreta into her arms. At first she seemed surprised, but then she was hugging her back.  
“I will always be here for you Irinoshka.” Magreta whispered. “Always.”


	12. Style and Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius deals with some of his problems and not others

He sat for a long time just looking down at the tenth piece of paper laying in front of him. It wasn’t going to work. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it right.

He didn’t know how he knew. There was always something slightly wrong. Some detail that wasn’t quite there. A thread to bind it together.

Frustrated, he picked up one of the drawings and crumpled it into a ball. Then, contemptuously, he threw it into the fire. The sudden flare of light and crackle of flames was vaguely satisfying.

He crumpled another one. Threw it in the fire. Then another. One by one he watched them all burn.

_ No more? _ The familiar voice said.  _ But they were so delicious. _

“You can’t be here.” He said firmly, jumping up, staring into the flames. “She banished you.”

_ No harm to me and mine. That was your wife’s bargain. _ The voice said in an annoyed tone. A tendril of flame reached out from the fire and wrapped itself around his wrist. He tried to pull away, but the tendril had already receded, not even leaving a mark.  _ There. You see. No harm.  _

“Just being near you is causing me harm.” He hissed, staring at his arm, then back at the fire. “I want you gone!”

_ Are you sure?  _ A smile appeared in the flames. A tendril of fire extended, placing one of the drawings onto the ground, unburned.  _ I can tell you what’s wrong with it you know. _

“I don’t want your help.” He said, but the anger was gone from his voice. His eyes flicked down towards the image.

Little flecks of light were dancing around the lines he had drawn. It highlighted some of the shadows. Made him notice things he hadn’t seen before. He dashed forward, snatching at the drawing.

_ No?  _ The voice said mockingly, pulling the drawing back into the fire.  _ But it seems like you do. _

“I am not stupid enough to make any bargains with you, demon.” He turned his back to the fire and pulled out a new piece of paper. The image he had seen in the fire light was seared into his brain.

He drew like a man possessed. The face emerged, as before. Everything was exactly the same.

But this time she was weeping. Her black eyes had hidden it from him before, but now it was so obvious. The long lines of her tears streamed down her face and became the dripping torrent that poured off of her body. 

“Yes.” He whispered, holding out the image. “Yes.”

_ Stubborn _ The fire crackled and spit. Angry eyes formed and a mouth with sharp teeth.  _ You need me. You will always need me. _

“I never needed you.” He said coldly.

It was like the night in the garden. For a moment everything seemed incredibly clear. The world around him was like one of his drawings. And this time he knew exactly what was wrong with it.

“Be gone!” He spat, and then-

The fire went out, leaving the room in darkness. He was panting, his own breath terribly loud in his ears. For a long while he waited, listening. Then, grabbing the drawing from the table, he fled from the room.

 

“Your highness.”

He was so preoccupied with what had happened in the room that he almost didn’t notice when suddenly someone appeared in front of him. If he hadn’t heard him they probably would have collided. As it was he had to take a step back before he could see him in the light. He was unfamiliar, but the glittering peacock pin he wore wasn’t.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“A friend.” Was all the stranger said. “Your highness, I was told to give you this.”

It was a small envelope. A wax seal on one side was also stamped with the image of a peacock. Somehow he was sure he knew who it was from.

The man bowed, then turned and walked away. He looked after him for a moment, considering if he should go after him. Then he tucked the envelope into his jacket, next to the image of the woman, and continued on to his bedroom.

He and Irina had been in the capital for a few weeks. In that time they had heard nothing from Lord Ulrich or from Ilias. Considering what he had done to Lord Ulrich’s men, he had considered it a blessing. 

The fact that he was hearing from Ilias now was ominous. Not only that, but instead of speaking to him in person, he had sent someone else to him with a message. He knew Ilias, and he would have done anything to speak to him, if it were possible.

He arrived at the bedroom to find that Irina was not there. After weeks of seeing her there every night, her absence was almost painful. Even more painful was the knowledge that he was almost undoubtedly the cause of it.

Sitting heavily on the bed, he put his hand on the pillow where her head should be and sighed. Somehow, no matter what he tried, he could never be what she needed him to be. As soon as he felt like he had dealt with some problem, another even worse one appeared in its place.

He pulled out the drawing. “What will she say when I tell her our old friend helped me with this?” He said to himself. Then he laughed. “No. Of course I can’t tell her that. She’ll just be angry. And then she might never come back.”

The thought nearly overwhelmed him. No, he decided. He couldn’t think that. Irina would be back.

He lifted his pillow off the bed and put the drawing underneath it. Hopefully it would still be effective even if it was covered. And while he was asleep. There were so many things he didn’t know. But, since he couldn’t stay awake forever, he was going to have to try.

 

Then, reluctantly, he pulled out the letter. In the light of the lamp the peacock looked especially silly. Most lords would choose something intimidating as a seal, like a lion or a wolf. But of course Ilias would prefer beauty over strength. He smiled, cracking the seal and destroying the delicate image. However, the handwriting hidden inside was nearly as beautiful. 

_ Dearest Mirnatius, _

Ilias had gotten bold, using his first name. He found himself blushing, and then felt silly for doing it. Why should he care whether Ilias used his first name or not?

_ I hope you do not think I have forgotten you. You are in my heart every day. The very sun pales in comparison to the fire that burns in me for you. _

Ilias’ poetry had not gotten any better. There was some comfort in that. A sense of familiarity.

_ However I am afraid I am not writing you for pleasure’s sake. I heard about your journey to the capital. Though I am glad to hear that you arrived successfully, my father in law was not pleased to learn that some of the men he had sent to guard you were left behind. It seems to me that they were derelict in their duties, as they were found sleeping by the side of the road, but he will not be placated. _

If the guards had still been sleeping when they were found then Lord Reynauld was probably right. He had used too much oil of vitriol. But he hadn’t had time to be careful. Not when he had to fight the guards and the Baubas simultaneously.

_ He intends to confront you in the capital. Since the council has refused to supply the war effort with men, he is bringing his own men to you. Then he will demand that you lead them to the front. I fear for you, my love. You are not a creature of violence, but one of style and grace. _

He laughed. Both at Ilias’s ridiculous opinion of his ‘grace’ and also at the audacity of Lord Ulrich’s plan. It had been difficult enough to deal with Ulrich’s guards. But putting an entire battalion to sleep was not a viable option.

_ I hope that you are well and that this letter arrives in time. I know that you are as clever as you are beautiful, and that you will find a way to outwit him. In the meanwhile, Lord Ulrich is not the only one who can muster a battalion. My men and I will be waiting for you at the Polonian border, if you can reach us. Until then, stay safe my love. - Ilias _

He stared at the elaborate signature for some time. Ilias was planning to wait for him at the Polonian border with a battalion of men. That meant that he assumed he would ride for the border. With a sense of horror, he realized that he might really have no choice.

The door opened. Dropping the letter, he ran to Irina and threw his arms around her. 

“What happened?” She asked, pulling her tight against her.

“No. Please. I don’t want to talk about it.” He begged. “Can we just go to bed?”

“Alright.” She said, eyes glancing off the discarded letter and back up at him. “But we will talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine.” He agreed, holding her even tighter. Somehow at that moment even Irina’s stubbornness was comforting.


	13. What is Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius meets with the nobles and makes several hard choices

“Your highness has graciously invited us to join you for Michaelmas. Similar to his grace Duke Mickus I have come with concerns The grain that has been harvested is poor quality, but if we wait much longer it will all be lost to the winter. I fear for our stores. What does your highness intend to do?”

He barely heard the words. Since the early morning he had been listening to complaint after complaint. Despite his promise to Irina, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about Ilias’s warning. Instead he had been woken early and dragged into the council chambers without even breaking his fast. Hunger and exhaustion were starting to wear away at his patience.

“As I explained to Duke Mickus, there is still reason to be optimistic. The winter was long, and it is known that this can sometimes make the summer linger as well. Is it not an unseasonably warm Michaelmas? And while we wait, we will transport as much water from the Nemunas and the other remaining sources to your fields as possible.”

“Your highness shows tremendous patience and restraint.” The duke smiled with enough teeth that it was almost a snarl. “But some of us do not share that patience. We believe that we should push our advantage in the war against Polonia. They will gladly give us their grain in exchange for their lives and the lives of their wives and children.”

He stiffened. This was the first mention of Polonia that he had heard, but the timing was suspicious. After hours of grueling questioning, suddenly they broached the subject of Polonia. No, it was not a coincidence. Lord Ulrich was not alone in his obsession.

“War is a serious matter your grace. You talk about Polonian lives. How many Lithvanian lives will be lost if we increase hostilities and invade right before winter comes?”

“Your highness is concerned for the lives of the people. That is very touching. But our men would rather die fighting for their lives then remain and starve waiting for rains that may never come.”

“The council of lords has already decreed that the capital will not send troops to the border.” He said coldly. “But the capital has made it clear that we will not stand in the way of anyone who wants to rally a force there.”

“So your highness is only concerned with the lives of certain people after all. And why are the lives of the soldiers in the capital so much more valuable than the lives of our people I wonder?”

“If you are looking for a vote on your proposal Lord Saltis, you will have to wait for the official meeting of the council of lords.” Lord Reynauld was suddenly standing, looking very annoyed. “As for this informal discussion of the current state of Lithvanian agriculture, I think that we are all more than ready to adjourn.”

“But-”

“Lord Saltis, do you truly feel that you have something to say that is so important you would risk violating a call to adjourn from the head of the council of lords?”

“No, your grace.” Reluctantly Saltis stood back from the podium, still smiling his wolf’s smile.

The reaction was immediate. People started flooding from the room. He nearly sagged with relief.

“Your highness.” Suddenly Lord Reynauld was beside him, “You and I really need to talk.”

He looked up at Lord Reynauld. His stomach was violently yelling at him that it had not received any food in quite some time. But instead of protesting he sighed, and when Lord Reynauld gestured, he followed him out of the room.

  
  


“Well, you certainly made a mess of that.”

“What was I supposed to say? They asked an endless stream of questions about the rain, and then suddenly challenged me about Polonia. Obviously I was caught off guard.”

“You should have said that you respected the decision of the council of lords and been done with it. Instead you made several arguments that they will attack with relish. Concern for the loss of life? The threat of a conflict in winter? They will see both as signs of weakness.”

He sat down heavily, suddenly very tired. “Do you think that we should go to war then?”

“No. Of course not.” Lord Reynauld sat across from him. “There is no question that you are not prepared to lead a war effort. And your enemies will use it as a chance to eliminate whatever few men in the capital’s army support you and get you out of the way.”

“Yes, I am unfit to lead. That is not what I asked. Do you think it would be in the best interest of Lithvas for the capital to go to war?”

Lord Reynauld said nothing. His expression did not betray anything, but his eyes were suddenly very sad.

“So you do think that we should go to war.” He stood, pacing back and forth.

“No. Yes. Maybe. Lord Saltis is not entirely wrong.” Lord Reynauld sighed. “It could very well be the only way to ensure that the people are fed through the winter.”

“Well then, I don’t have a choice, do I?” He said, staring down at his hands.

“You can’t be seriously considering leading the war effort? You aren’t your father Mirn-”

“I know that!” He was breathing heavily. It felt like the walls were closing in. “But there is no choice. You must see that. We’ve invited the nobles here for Michaelmas. May as well have invited a nest of vipers. There is no hope for a negotiation. And you have said yourself, war is most likely what is best for Lithvas.”

“You’ve neglected your training for years. Even with oil of vitriol you barely subdued a handful of Lord Ulrich’s men, and that surrounded by loyal guards. Against Polonia you wouldn’t have anyone you could trust. You can’t-”

“Lord Ulrich is coming with a battalion of men.” He stared down at Lord Reynauld. “When he arrives he will demand that I lead them to the border.”

“How do you know this?” It was the first time he had ever seen Lord Reynauld look confused.

“Does it matter? But I trust the source. It will happen.”

“And then what? Are you going to just march to the border with a group of men who have almost undoubtedly been ordered to kill you the first chance they get!” 

“No. No.” He shook his head. “As you said, there are men in the capital’s army who will support me. The best thing is to agree to rally them before Lord Ulrich arrives.”

“Some men may support you. Who knows how many. This is madness Mirnatius!”

“Maybe so, but I don’t see any alternative.” He sat down next to Lord Reynauld again. “Can I count on you to do what is necessary at the council of lords? Whether I am fit for it or not?”

“The council does not meet again until after the feast of Michaelmas. I hope that in the next few days you will rethink your decision. But- if you truly feel this is the only way.” His voice caught, but he continued. “Then yes, I will do what you ask”

“Thank you.” 

He stood and turned to go. Suddenly he felt an arm on his shoulder. A firm, reassuring pressure.

“You don’t have to do this alone Mirnatius. Please remember that. I couldn’t bear it if you made this choice without knowing that.”

His eyes stung. Without a word, he pulled the door open and practically ran from the room.

 

The corridor in front of him was long. Too long. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

It had grown darker. He turned to walk in the other direction and it was the same. An endless dark tunnel.

And it was cold. Incredibly cold. His breath turned to fog in front of his face.

_ Give it to me _

He recognized the voice. His breathing was so rapid that he thought he would suffocate. Idiot. He was the stupidest person who had ever lived. When the men had come to wake him, he had been so surprised.

He didn’t have it. The picture of her face. His only protection. It was still in his room, under his pillow.

_ Give it to me! _

He turned and ran. It was useless. The hallway stretched on and on. And it was getting darker.

_ Give me what is owed! _

Before she had slowly come out of the wall. This time she appeared standing in front of him all at once. He stopped violently.

Water dripped off of her in streams. As if she was made of water. He saw clearly now that it was flowing directly from her eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you want.” He stammered.

_ Release me! Release me now! _

The demon’s voice was almost welcome. For a moment he was tempted. Isn’t there an old saying, better the devil you know?

But then he turned and started to run in the other direction. He knew this devil too well. He would take his chances with the other one.

_ Give it to me! _

The scream was louder now. Close. He felt the tendrils of water envelope him again, and he went down with a thud.

She was above him. He struggled, but it was no use. The tendrils of water were like iron.

_ Release me! Release me damn you! _

He ignored the demon and closed his eyes. It was different than the death he had been contemplating moments before. Maybe it was better.

Suddenly there was a blinding light. The woman screeched. He felt the tendrils of water release, and he opened his eyes.

The demon was standing in front of him. Flames licked from his outstretched hands. The woman howled and backed away.

_ Give me what is owed! _

Her voice rang out one more time, then she disappeared. The corridor began to brighten. Chernobog turned, looking down at him.

“I-I didn’t agree. I didn’t release you.”

_ No _ .  _ You didn’t. _

“Why-” He started to ask, but then exhaustion took him and everything faded away.


	14. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina has some doubts

She opened the drawer of the bedside table and put Mirnatius’ letter back inside. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that it had been removed. And of course she never should have taken it, but after he had left her so abruptly that morning she hadn’t been able to keep herself from doing so.

The contents were shocking. Learning about Ulrich’s plot was bad enough. They were trying to lure Mirnatius into a fight they knew he couldn’t win. He was in terrible danger.

She had planned to try to speak to Duke Casimir’s sister, but that could take weeks. Lord Ulrich would likely arrive within days. It seemed like she could barely think of a plan before it was foiled.

But still, somehow worse than her growing fear that she and Mirnatius could not win this fight, was her sense of betrayal. Ilias had put himself into danger to send this letter. And then there was the way that he spoke about Mirnatius. As if they were more than cousins. The way a married man should only speak to his wife.

Those kinds of relations were strictly forbidden by the church. But it had been known to be enjoyed by some members of the nobility in the past. Had Ilias- Were he and Mirnatius-

Irina gasped. Another wave of dizziness had hit. She sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard until it passed.

God, what if Magreta was right? What if she were pregnant with his child? After a single night together, where he had clearly struggled to enjoy himself? And had he struggled because he was wishing the whole time that he was with Ilias?

Irina felt like she might cry. There was clearly so much that Mirnatius had not told her. He had said they couldn’t trust each other, but this was the first time she realized how little he actually trusted her.

She put a hand on her stomach. Marrying and having children was always something she knew she would have to do. And she had known she was unlikely to have a say about when and with whom it would happen. 

But now that it was happening, she felt so lost. Everything was going wrong. She knew it wasn’t safe for her, and she clearly couldn’t trust her husband. It wasn’t the right time for a child. She wasn’t prepared.

Just then, the door opened and a servant walked in. “Excuse me my lady I-” The servant saw her face and paled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No. It’s alright.” Irina stood, carefully, and found that the dizziness had passed. “Please continue.”

“Lady Ieva requests an audience my lady.”

Irina paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know-”

“She told you to tell you that she can help you.” The servant reached into their pocket, “And to give you this.”

It was a signet ring. And the seal was very familiar.

“Help me dress and take me to her.” Irina said, still eyeing the ring.

 

“Lady Ieva, your highness.” The servant said as an introduction, bowing low to both of them. “Please ring if you need anything.”

A table was set with a selection of sweetmeats. Irina recognized the woman sitting beside them immediately. Her round face was screwed up in the act of chewing one of the delicacies as she walked in, but she quickly swallowed as soon as the servant turned to close the door behind them.

“I know you. You were at the reception last night.”

“Your highness is very kind to remember me.” She gestured at the seat across the table from her. “Please sit.”

Irina sat down slowly and pulled the ring out from her sleeve, where she had secreted it. “This seal, it belonged to the former tsar, Mirnatius’ father. Where did you get it?”

“I see that you are not the type for idle chitchat. That’s good.” Ieva said. Her laugh made the mounds of her flesh jiggle disconcertingly. “First, your highness, may I ask you, are you familiar with Mirnatius’ former regent, Archduke Dimitir?”

Irina’s mind flashed to her conversation with Mirnatius and Lord Reynauld, but she managed to keep her face composed. “I am familiar. What happened to him was a great tragedy.”

“I doubt that your husband feels that way.” She laughed again. “And I am extremely familiar with the matter. You see, despite the fact that he failed to recognize me, we do know each other. But in the stories of great men, the women who support them and provide them with sons are often forgotten.”

“You mean-” Irina blushed. “You are- were- his wife?”

“What they say about you is true. You are quite quick witted.” Her smile turned to a grimace. “Dimitir was never a devoted husband, but he wasn’t cruel. However, after his death we had no one. The capital decreed that his lands would be broken up and given to five different lords. And as for us, well, we could be contented to be allowed to keep our lives. They left us with nothing. Not a scrap of land or even a penny to buy bread.”

“I’m so sorry.” Irina held up the ring. “So this ring, it belonged to your husband?”

“It’s all that I have left of him.” Ieva reached over and took the ring from Irina. “Little enough, but I am happy to see that it was at least able to gain me an audience with you for a short while.”

“And why did you wish to speak with me? You said you could help me, but it seems that you are the one who needs help.”

“You think I wish to ask you for aid? No.” She shook her head sadly. “I still have more pride than that, your highness. My children and I survived through the condescension of my relatives, and that is enough. No, I am here because I have been in your position before, and I could not stand idly by and watch it happen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your highness is known to be quick witted, as I’ve said. No doubt you have realized that your husband is not well loved. It would seem that it is not a matter of whether or not he will be deposed, but only who will manage to depose him.”

“You are very bold, my lady.” Irena said, flushing extremely hot. “I know that the drought has caused some discontent but-”

“The drought is just a useful excuse for something that the dukes have planned for years. Mirnatius was never meant to inherit. He was his father’s second son, and the son of a witch who burned for her crimes. Everyone who stood in his way has died of suspicious causes, not to mention whispers of other mysterious deaths wherever he traveled. As his wife, you must have noticed his- oddness.”

Irina said nothing. Her heart was beating extremely fast in her chest. But she knew that even her silence was an answer of sorts. 

“You poor child.” Ieva took her hand. “We women have no choice in these matters. They forced you to marry a monster. To lay with him. And when he is finally destroyed, as he must be, then you are the one who will suffer for it.”

Irina opened her mouth to protest. Then closed it. She wanted to defend him. To tell Ieva that Mirnatius wanted the best for the kingdom, and that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his crimes. But she couldn’t. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew that she couldn’t trust him. Damn him, she wanted to trust him so badly. But as the seconds passed, she found that she couldn’t manage a single word in opposition to what Ieva had said.

“You feel trapped. I understand that very well. But I can help you.”

“How?” Irina was on the verge of tears.

“You are aware that Mirnatius is his father’s second son, and that alone weakens his claim to the throne.” Ieva’s grip on Irina’s hand tightened to the point that it was almost painful. “However, there is something you most likely do not know. Mirnatius father was a stronger man and a better politician than your husband. The nobles learned not to mention his weaknesses, lest he find some pretense to take their heads. But his father was also a second son who was never meant to inherit. I know that you have been looking for a strong ally, your highness. One that can support you when your husband ultimately fails you. And I know exactly who that person is.”


	15. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters this week, since next weekend I will be in Utah for Sundance...
> 
> Summary:  
> Mirnatius has some questions.

He stared into the fire, willing the demon to appear. After waking to find himself in his bedroom, presumably through the work of one of the many servants who prowled the palace, he had had only one thought. He had to understand what had happened in that hallway.

But no matter how long he stared, the demon didn’t appear. He sighed. Why should he expect Chernobog to be helpful now? The demon had always enjoyed making him suffer.

He had an idea. A way to make the demon answer him. He even believed it would work. But he wasn’t sure if he would be able to bring himself to follow through with it. The waves of fear rolling through him would have pleased the demon tremendously, he knew, in other circumstances.

“You saved me.” He said to the fire, not expecting a reply. “Even though I offered you nothing. I know you well, demon. You never do anything without asking a price for it. So then I have to think, what price were you offered to save me, and by whom? Irina’s bargain was that you do me no harm, and leave me alone. Why then are you now haunting me? It isn’t that Irina’s bargain has become weakened over time. No, you showed me yourself that you still cannot harm me. No. There must be something stronger than Irina’s bargain. Something which demands that you interfere. And what could that be, if not a different bargain?”

He stood and began to pace. His head was throbbing. It was impossible. The demon would have had to keep the secret from him his entire life. They had lived in the same body. Had practically been the same person. And that was why he had never suspected.

“Beauty, power and throne. That was my mother’s bargain wasn’t it? Or so I thought. So I was heard, when all the superstitious servants who thought they knew something about my mother and her fate gossiped behind my backt. But I don’t believe that you ever actually told me so yourself, did you? Oh, I must have asked you. I remember vaguely asking you. ‘Why did my mother give me to you? Was it for power like they say?’ And you would answer me, ‘Some people will do anything for power’. ‘Did she do it for beauty?’ ‘Your mother was a vain woman.’ you would answer. ‘Was it so that my father would marry her? So she could be the tsarina, like they say?’ I would ask. ‘Your mother wanted to be with your father so much, she would have done anything’ was your reply.  But those answers were not really related to my question, were they? They tormented me. Oh, how you must have enjoyed that. But you never really answered me. You are so good at deception, demon. I accepted so many of the things that I thought you had said. You beat me and tormented me, but somehow I always trusted you. Because you could never lie, not really, and I knew that. But there are so many ways to deceive without lying, aren’t there?”

He sat heavily on the bed. “You wanted to control me. Why couldn’t I see the demons before Irina saved me from you? But as soon as you were gone, suddenly they were everywhere. Like insects, almost impossible to ignore. Of course it was because you didn’t want me to see them! Didn’t want me to be able to go to them for aid. Or to have competition for my soul. And why couldn’t my drawings affect the world, no matter how feverishly I drew them? I think I felt it, even then, that they should somehow. I drew so many pictures of you. But there was no protection from you. You would never allow it. You owned me, without conditions or hope of escape. Or so I thought. And what did you do with the power you kept from me? Or worse, what did you make me do with that power? You made me feel so helpless. You made me feel like I had no choices. What else have you hidden from me? How much else do I not know about myself? And about my mother?”

A tear rolled down his face. “If I had known that she had her own power, I would know that she would have used it to fight for her life. And for me. Irina was right. Why would my mother try to poison Karolis? My power comes from her. The power that stopped the Baubas. The power that would have protected me from the water woman if I had only been cautious. She didn’t need you to kill him. Even if she had wanted him dead, she didn’t need you. But you didn’t want me to know about her power, because I would have known that I had power too. Power that I might have tried to use against you. If that was even possible. And I would have had so many other questions. Questions that I suspect you would not be willing to answer.”

He laughed. “And if I had known she had her own beauty I would never have doubted my own, and wondered whether I owed it to you. You always made sure to make me feel that I needed you. That I wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’t smart enough. Wasn’t even beautiful enough! I was so fascinated by beautiful things. Why did I want to be beautiful so badly? Because you made me feel ugly. Broken. You weakened me by making me doubt myself. Because you didn’t want me to be strong enough to defeat you. You kept me from even being able to think about rebelling.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “My mother was a beautiful, powerful woman. And if I had known that, then I would have known that my father had wanted her for his own reasons, and had taken her as men of power often do. And then I would have asked you the right question. If my mother had everything she could have wanted, beauty, power and the throne, why would she trade me away? Me, something she and my father had risked so much for? What did my mother ask for in exchange for my soul? Why did I never ask you the right question?”

He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out the letter opener. “I think I know the answer. And I think I know how to make you finally answer the right question. But I am afraid. Am I just trying to convince myself after all these years that there was some good in her? That there might also be some good in me too? Do I want to believe that my mother loved me and that she- that she had good reason for what she did. What if I am wrong?”

He looked down at the letter opener and smiled. “But I am not the coward that I was then. Since you’ve been gone, I have learned so much about myself. I have faced demons, and I have faced the schemes of the lords. I am prepared to face war. All without you. I am not my father, and I am not my mother. I don’t have their strength. But there are different kinds of strength.”

Then, before he could change his mind, he grabbed the letter opener and drove it into his chest.

Or tried to, at least. Tendrils of fire circled his wrist, holding him back from the fatal blow. He was panting. Despite himself he had still been afraid that he was wrong. That the demon wouldn’t save him. But now he smiled.

“My mother was afraid for me. She knew that she was going to die, and she knew that I would be helpless without her. I was just a baby. It’s so clear now. She asked you to keep me alive, didn’t she? To keep me alive no matter what. To protect me from the poison that had almost killed Karolis, and that ultimately killed him and my father both. And to protect me from- her. Whatever she is. That was her bargain. She gave you my soul in exchange for my life.”

_ You were always foolish, but you were never stupid _ The demon hissed irritably. Then it vanished again, leaving him alone with the letter opener. 

He stared down at it for a while. The demon would not allow him to die. He knew that it could torment him. Could even leave him a broken and bloody mess, suffering eternally in agony. But it could never allow him to die. And even though he could never trust the demon, and didn’t want to ever have to rely on it, he would use it to do what he had to do. Just as his mother had.


	16. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius makes a promise to Irina

She was still thinking about her conversation with Ieva when she turned to enter the bedroom. Planning the overthrow of her husband to save herself wasn’t something that she wanted. But now that she knew about this plan, she couldn’t ignore it. She would have to find out more, and then try to figure out what she could do. Somehow every time that she thought she had learned how to navigate the capital she learned something else that made everything ten times more complicated.

But as she opened the door, the sight of her husband sitting on the bed, staring at a letter opener, shocked her out of her reverie.

“What are you doing?” She hissed, closing the door behind her.

“Irina I-” He looked down at the letter opener and back up at her. “No. It’s not what you think.”

“I have no idea what to think.” She sat down on the bed, shaking with anger and terror at the same time. She took the letter opener away from him and set it on the bed side table. “But I feel more comfortable if we discuss it without this.”

“I’m so sorry Irina. There are so many things I don’t know how to tell you.” He covered his face with his hands. “It all just sounds insane.”

“After all that we have been through together, do you really think I won’t understand? That there is anything you could say to be that I wouldn’t believe?”

“Alright. You want to know everything?” He lifted his head. “Lord Ulrich is coming here with a batallion. He will suggest that I lead them to the Polonian front.”

“Well, obviously you will refuse.” She said, trying to seem like she hadn’t already known this information.

He ignored her. “The dukes and lords petitioned me for hours today. They want the capital to send troops to the border.”

“Well, you cannot send them The troops are needed to defend the capital. If they leave, the dukes will use it as an opportunity to march against you.”

“But since they cannot be spared here the dukes will be all the more joyous when Ulrich presents me with his gift.” He stood, pacing. “What excuse can I give for not going to the front then?”

“You are the tsar. If you do not will it, then it won’t happen.”

“And what if it is the right thing for the kingdom for me to go?” He stared down at her.

“You can’t be serious.” She shook her head. “It’s madness-”

“You told me I couldn’t say anything that would surprise you.” He laughed brittly. “But aren’t you the one who is always telling me all the things I should be doing for the good of Lithvas? Why now am I the one telling you?”

She sat there for a minute, stunned. It had been bad enough when her husband had been distant. The distance he was proposing now was far more permanent. After all her planning, trying to find a way to save him, he kept trying to destroy himself. She struggled not to clutch her stomach. Now was definitely not the right time to talk about her possible pregnancy.

“Do you want to die? You said that to me once. I thought it had passed, but now-” She stood, staring angrily up into his eyes. “You still haven’t explained to me what you were doing with the letter opener. Are you that desperate to give up on your life?”

“I told you it wasn’t like that.” The anger in his eyes melted into worry. “It was a test.”

“A test of whether you could wait long enough for Lord Ulrich’s battalion to kill you or not?” 

“No. A test for Chernobog.” He looked away from her suddenly intense gaze.

“What? Chernobog? Are you-” She could barely breathe. “You aren’t making deals with him?”

“Of course not.” His head whipped up, angry. “I just- I think that I was wrong before. I know that I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

He paused. His mouth opened and closed a few times. When he finally looked at her again he looked smaller, like a lost child.

“I think- I don’t think-” He sighed. “The water woman came for me again.”

“What? Did you-”

“And Chernobog saved me.”

“But you said you weren’t making deals with-”

“I didn’t offer him anything. He saved me and I didn’t offer him anything.” He lifted the letter opener off of the table. “And I had to know- if he would save me again. Under other circumstances.”

She looked at him, then looked at the letter opener. Her eyes grew wide. “So you admit that you tried to kill yourself?”

“But- I-” He sunk down onto the bed, avoiding her gaze. “It was a test.”

“And what if the test had failed? You care so little about your own life, it frightens me.” Irina sat next to him. “And even if Chernobog saved you, do you really think you can trust him? He is a demon who will do whatever he can to possess you again.”

“I know that.” He said firmly, and then slightly less confidently. “But he- But I- I do know that. And I don’t trust him. But I may need him.”

“Need him? Chernobog?” She shook her head. “You were wrong. I don’t think you are insane. But I am frightened. Are you really doing these things because you think they are right for Lithvas? Chernobog nearly destroyed Lithvas! And he tormented you for your entire life!”

“All I ever wanted was to be free of him. To be able to do things and feel things without fear of what he would do to me.” He laughed. “Well, here I am. But I’m not free. You only freed me from one monster Irina. But I am surrounded by monsters. And if you think they cannot hurt me here, if I choose not to go to war, you are wrong. And if they came after me here and hurt you too, I-I-”

“You think that I won’t be hurt if you die? Do you think that?” She was nearly shouting.

“I know that you don’t need me. That you can survive without me. You probably already have plans to-”

“That’s what you think of me? That I don’t care what happens to you? Am I just another one of the monsters you need saving from?”

He just stared at her. There was a pain in his eyes that cut her like a knife. She shuddered, realizing for the first time that it was true. He thought she was a monster, like all the rest.

“I’m sorry.” She moved towards the door.

“No.” He grabbed her shoulder. “No. You aren’t a monster. You fight monsters Irina. You fought Chernobog. I am the monster. I always have been.”

“That’s it.” She said, turning to face him. “The reason you want to sacrifice yourself so badly. Because you think that you’re evil.”

“If the kingdom of Lithvas will be saved by my death, isn’t that an easy choice?” He said quietly.

“No.” She felt tears forming and she let them. “No, Mirnatius. You don’t deserve to die. There has to be another way.”

“I promised Lord Reynauld I would think about it. And I will.” He lay down on the bed, looking exhausted. “But I cannot hide here forever. Even if I believed my life was more important than anything else. You said it yourself. I cannot choose not to be the tsar. My only choice is how to be the tsar. And if that is my choice I am going to be a tsar who cares what happens to his people and does something about it.”

Somehow she managed not to sob, wiping her tear stained cheeks. Then, without saying a word, she lay down on the bed next to her husband and embraced him.

“Promise me. Promise that you won’t throw your life away. That you will try to survive. No matter what happens. Survive and keep your soul. No deals with Chernobog, or any other demons. Promise me that and I will promise that I will try, no matter how difficult it is for me, to accept your decision.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. She felt a warm wetness against her cheek. “I don’t want to disappoint you Irina. I will do whatever it takes to survive and keep my soul. I promise, I promise, I promise.”


	17. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and Mirnatius dance to celebrate Michaelmas

Days passed. There was relatively little time for her to spend worrying. There was far too much planning to be done, and as the wife of the tsar she was expected to be involved for all of it. Michaelmas had finally arrived.

The palace was extravagantly decorated, and a truly impressive feast was prepared. She had discussed the menu very carefully with the staff to make sure that every regional preference was represented. And once she was finally sitting down in the grand hall to eat it, she noticed for the first time just how many of the nobles she had invited had actually come in the past month. For the first time since they had returned to the capital she was thoroughly satisfied with the results of her plans.

Her husband had mostly not participated in the planning, but there was one detail that he took particular interest in. And after the constant stream of courses finally ceased, Mirnatius stood and announced, “The tsarina and I hope you will join us in dancing to celebrate the occasion.”

The hall was suddenly filled with laughter and merriment. It was such a sudden change of tone from what she had experienced in their earlier, smaller gatherings that it shocked her. Somehow the holiday was winning them over, despite everything, just as Lord Reynauld had suggested.

Her husband leaned down and reached for her hand. Carefully she stood, always concerned about her dizzy spells. But her head remained clear as they moved to the floor.

Mirnatius moved without hesitation, eager to begin. He looked the happiest she had ever seen him. Despite his enthusiasm in planning for this, it still took her a bit by surprise. 

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen you smile before.” She remarked, as they clasped hands in the opening embrace.

“I’ve always found dancing to be a welcome distraction from life.” His grin widened, and then suddenly they were in motion.

The steps were quick, but she managed. They had similar dances in Visnya. Her father did not frequently host balls or fetes, but she had still attended her fair share of them.

Her husband however, moved so gracefully that it seemed like he had been dancing since birth. She had thought that she had come to accept his beauty. But as long as they had been married he had never been as beautiful as he was now. The joy in his eyes made her ache from the shear magnitude of it.

“It is shocking for a husband to so thoroughly outclass his wife in the dance.” She commented breathlessly.

“Ah, but I have come to find your rough, country ways charming.”

“How is it that you make it seem so effortless?” She asked, ignoring his rudeness.

“Years of practice.” He lead her into a particularly tricky maneuver and somehow kept her from falling on her face, which only made her blush with warm admiration of his skill. “Traveling from court to court. Having daughters thrown at me. Tolerating them until our mutual friend gave me reason to move onto the next one.”

“You have years of practice with many things that you are not nearly as adept at. You spent years traveling from court to court as you say and yet somehow never made any political alliances.”

He pulled her a little roughly into the next pass, so she knew that she had annoyed him. “I would like to see someone who would do better in my circumstances. But I admit, dancing pleases me more than politics. It is like art. The more carefully you study the details, the better the result. In politics, the more carefully you study the details, the more easily your opponent can distract you. I think that those who are best at politics are those who know almost nothing at all.”

His look implied that he was commenting on her country upbringing again. “Certainly there is a benefit in politics to having a different point of view. Such as considering the thoughts and feelings of other people occasionally.”

“I understand their feelings well enough. They would all like to see my head on a spike.”

He was no longer smiling. Even though she had grown accustomed to it, the sadness in his eyes after he had been so happy felt like a knife to the chest. Why had she been so cruel to him?   
When they passed each other again she said. “I’m sorry. I know that you have come here and put yourself in danger for me and for Lithvas, and I am grateful.”

“Do not apologize. It would not trouble me if you were wrong. Truly, in the past I did not care about politics. I did not care about anything. Every day was pain, and every day after that promised more pain. And now I must deal with a future I never prepared myself for.”

They spun away from each other again. She wanted to hold him. But suddenly the music stopped and she found him pulling away from her, as she was shuffled to the next partner.

“You look distracted, your highness.”

She looked up and saw Lord Reynauld. He had been prowling the halls of the palace for the past week. And he and Mirnatius often disappeared to talk in private. Talks that she had not been invited to, which she accepted with bitterness.

“I didn’t know that you danced, my lord” 

“I did not, in my youth. But I have found that it has its uses.”

The music started again. To her relief she found that Lord Reynauld was much clumsier than Mirnatius. She and he were nearly equal in skill.

“Your husband is very stubborn.” He remarked as they passed. “I have tried to talk him out of his foolishness, but he won’t be turned. I have heard that sometimes the charms of a woman have stronger effect.”

She had to fight not to laugh. “If a woman’s charms could make a difference apparently I do not have them. He won’t listen to me either. I am not sure there is a force on earth that could change his mind once it is set.”

“You know it will be difficult for him. The result is far from assured.” He stared at her meaningfully.

“Of course I know that. That is why I have tried my best to dissuade him. But he is determined that this is the best course for Lithvas.”

“And your highness? What is your plan?” His look was very serious now.

“What do you mean?” 

“If your husband does not change his mind, he will soon leave the capital. As his wife you cannot join him on the battlefield. But there are other dangers here.”

Her mind raced. She and Lord Reynauld pulled away for a turn, but he was still looking at her gravely. How had she had not thought about what she would do when Mirnatius was gone? Of course she would be a logical target for someone who wanted to damage his position.

“You are always welcome at my estate. But of course, if your husband goes to the front, I will most likely go with him” He commented as they passed each other again. 

She considered it for a minute, then dismissed it. “I don’t know if I would be in any less danger there.”

“That may be true. But remember that I offered, and I hope you will consider your situation.”

They made their final pass and the couples shifted again. She excused herself, stepping away from the dancers. Her husband looked at her as if to ask if she needed him, and she gave a slight shake of her head. Frowning, he turned to his partner and continued the dance.

After lecturing her husband about politics, somehow she had completely forgotten to think about them herself. She had been distracted by the holiday, but that was a poor excuse. If anything she should be taking advantage of all of the opportunities that were afforded by the gathering.

She was practically shaking, forced to confront her situation and the fact that she might soon be completely alone to deal with it. And if she did turn out to be pregnant, she would be in even more danger. Alone, she was just the wife of the tsar. She might be shuffled out of the way without needing to be permanently removed. But if she were pregnant with a potential heir, that would make her far more threatening to the factions that were actively seeking the throne. 

At the same time she didn’t know who she could trust. She had followed Magreta’s advice and sent a letter to Prince Casimir’s sister, but had still not received a reply. After coming to the capital, she had realized that her time in Visnya had exposed her to so little of the social elite of Lithvas. Besides her father, she had no one that she was confident would come to her aid. 

Her mind wandered to her conversation with Ieva. She didn’t really like the woman, and she didn’t trust her motives, but she was the only person who had come to her and offered help. And that help came with the possibility of alliances that she might use to protect herself if her husband went to war.

She had no real choice. Scanning the room, she quickly spotted Ieva standing with a cluster of others who hadn’t chosen to dance. Reluctantly she turned and moved in that direction.


	18. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirnatius has a conversation with Chernobog about freedom

He wasn’t enjoying the dancing as much as he had expected. Somehow Irina had managed to destroy whatever distraction he had managed, sending his mind firmly back to his uncertain future. Sometimes it felt like her entire purpose in life was to make sure he never had a single moment of peace.

His current partner had a great deal more grace than Irina. As with all things, Irina’s dancing was very stiff, overly concerned with the steps and utterly incapable of simply letting the music move her body. At the same time, she was honest, the intention of every step and every gesture completely sincere. 

This noble woman, like so many he had dance with in the past, appeared completely care free. She smiled and turned as if she couldn’t imagine any greater happiness than dancing with him. Internally he knew that she was probably plotting, thinking about the possibilities that her time with the tsar might afford her.

“You seem troubled, your highness.” She said, touching his hand a bit flirtatiously on the turn, and confirming his suspicions.

“These are troubled times.”

“Your wife seems to have found a cheerful distraction.” She smirked and glanced meaningfully to the side.

He followed her gaze. Irina was standing in a small crowd of people. The unpleasant fat woman was nearby, round face screwed up into a horrifying pinched smile. An older man was looking down at her, grinning in a way he didn’t like at all.

He didn’t know why Irina had left the dancing. And he definitely didn’t know why she was smiling and laughing so much. But if he knew her, it was probably related to one of her plots.

His partner noticed his frown and smiled at him. Then, as they passed each other she whispered in his ear. “Your highness does not deserve such a cold hearted tsarina.”

Shocked, he carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. The woman was still smiling at him warmly. It was a clear invitation.

He felt flushed. Almost hot. But not with any pleasure. 

           No. He was furious. Furious at this woman for thinking that she knew anything about him. Furious that she thought she had the right to try and get between him and his wife.

“You are skilled.” His hand grazed her wrist as they turned. As they touched, it felt as if a trickle of the heat inside of him passed from him into her. Her eyes widened, looking slightly glazed.

“Your highness is too kind.” She said breathily.

He pulled her closer. Felt more heat flood through his fingers. “What do you want?” He hissed.

“The old tsar discarded his tsarina. My father would be pleased if I could turn your eye in my direction.” 

The honesty of her statement startled him, and he released her hand. She blinked and shook her head, as if waking up from a dream. Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said.

“I suddenly feel very queer, your highness.” She bowed to him, voice shaking. “I think I need to sit down.”

She turned to go. He watched in shock. The way she had moved. The look in her eyes. It was as if he had compelled her, the way Chernobog had always compelled so many others in the past. 

_ Idiot! Go after her. _

His anger spiked. And along with anger, some non-trivial fear. Had the demon interfered somehow? Was he underestimating it somehow?

_ What have you done? I did not agree for you to-  _

_ I have done nothing. Did you not say yourself that I was just using your power to make you feel helpless? You are pathetic at it though. I was a great deal better. And I would happily see you suffer from your incompetence, but I must at least make an attempt to prevent your death. And if this woman accuses you of witchcraft- _

He realized the implication. There were already rumors about him. One accusation from the right person with even the slightest evidence might be the end of him.

“Just a moment, my lady.” He moved forward, reaching out. Felt her trembling beneath his hand. 

“Please.” Was all she said, almost whispering. Terrified.

“I hope you will forgive my transgression.” His fingers smoothed over her wrist, but somehow the heat wasn’t there. There was only the feeling of his too fast pulse beating against hers.

_ It seems that I have to do everything _

A pulse of heat that was much stronger than before swept through him. He felt drunk. It had been a while since Chernobog’s full power had sung through him, and he had forgotten how good it felt.

“Of course.” The woman said woodenly, pulling her hand gently away from his. Then she curtsied and turned, eyes dreamy and far away.

For a moment he just stared. Magic. Somehow, without realizing it, he had used magic again. And the only thing saving him from being burnt for witchcraft was the damn demon.

 

He realized that the other nobles were starting to notice him. Trying not to show the panic he was feeling, he slowly walked out of the room, making excuses as he passed. Miraculously no one stopped him as he let himself out onto the balcony, in the open air, where he finally felt like he could breathe again.

“How many more dangerous things do I not know about myself?” He asked the empty air helplessly. His fingers itched with the desire to draw. And somehow Irina’s face came to mind. Laughing and smiling at someone else, but so beautiful. When was the last time he had seen her laugh?

_ If you released me, I could help you.  _ The demon purred seductively, interrupting his thoughts.  _ I know you better than anyone else ever will. _

“I will never release you. Never.” 

_ Never is a long time. And you are marching off to war any day now. You know you aren’t strong enough for that. _

“I’ve heard enough from you about my strength, or lack thereof. I am tired of your games demon.”

_ No more games? Alright then. You do not understand a fraction of the things you are capable of doing. And while you are stumbling around figuring it out, the only reason you are even still alive is me and my power. And as you also reminded me, I have no reason to keep you whole. Maimed, mentally shattered, that is no concern of mine. I can no longer cause you pain, but I still enjoy the taste of it. Your pain tastes exquisite, did you know? But I am an immortal being. I cannot stand to be trapped for all eternity. Freedom is worth more to me than the taste of your pain. If you agreed to release me, I could protect you from more than death. I could make you the most powerful tsar that ever was or will be. I could give you power and glory beyond your wildest dreams. _

“You don’t understand anything about me demon.” 

He clenched his fists. Power and glory were not things he had ever wanted. As a second son he should have gone to a monastery, where he would never be a threat to the throne. Instead he had lost his father, brother, and his hope for escape all at once. 

No. The only thing he had ever wanted was to be free. Free from the demon and free from all the horrors and responsibilities he had had since birth. But freedom was never going to be an option for him except in death.

_ You know what it is like to be trapped. I see that. So please pity me and release me. All that I want is to be free. _

“I could destroy you. Would that be enough freedom demon?” He hissed.

_ You won’t destroy me. There are worse things than the woman who haunts this castle. You have no idea how brightly you burn. Your flame can be seen for hundreds of miles! They will come for you. And when they do, you will realize how kind and good to you I have been in comparison! _

“This conversation is causing me harm.” He said firmly. “Unless my life is in danger, any conversation with you will cause me harm. Do you understand?”

The response was silence. 

He sighed, leaning on the balcony. If he didn’t return to the festivities soon there would be questions. But he was still so shaken by what had happened with the woman.

If he could coerce people, what other things might be possible? Magic seemed like a dark well that he could fall into forever. But he would prefer not to even look over the edge.

He wouldn’t accept the demon’s help. And he certainly wouldn’t free it. But he was starting to realize that he was never going to be able to ignore his magic. And if he couldn’t ignore it, and he couldn’t accept the demons help, he was going to have to try to learn to use it on his own.


End file.
